Sincerely, Scarlett

03: Dear Hanna

Dear Hanna,

I remember how we’d laugh day in and day out, just constantly. We’d spread ourselves out in the dirt, sometimes forgetting that maybe it’s actually mud. Then we’d laugh and laugh, even with the mud covering the backs of our favourite dresses. Not quite favourites but dresses that we loved nonetheless. I remember when it was just us two, and Kelsey, who you’ve long forgotten. I remember us all heading down to my uncle’s farm, broad grins evident on our features. It was so much fun. But, now, you’re in California and I’m stuck in New Jersey, bored as hell, silent as anything. I wonder, everyday, how you’re coping all alone. I know it’s not any help for me, being alone, that is.

The other day, though, Uncle Cal came around – I snapped at him though. I feel so bad…and yesterday – or maybe a few days ago, it’s hard to remember, Aiden called. Then I called him the following day. He lives in Tennessee now, and he says he misses all of us. Do you miss us all too? Our little gang? The six musketeers as everyone called us? I’m sincerely smiling now, remembering all six of strutting down the hallway, nowhere near being popular but still, everyone knew us because Aiden was one of the cutest boys in school. Still is, I suppose.

I remember when Kristen, Hailey and Angelina all traipsed into school on the first day of grade nine. We had no idea if we should even let them talk to us, let alone befriend us. I remember the first few weeks, as well. Where they’d stare cautiously at us, pondering whether to walk on over and say hello. And I remember that they never did.

And I remember the days we spent talking after school, waiting for your dad to come pick us up. And I also remember the day you landed in hospital. I swore it was my fault, still do, actually.

I’m sorry, Han. I’m sorry for running away from your house just because your brother yelled out that he wanted his parents to die. I’m sorry that I took it so wrong, so, so wrong. But maybe it was just because the pain was so raw, the gash still open and bleeding. My dad had only just died and my mum was quite sick then. And I just ran and ran, but you followed. The bang that followed my crossing of the main highway made me turn around. You lay there, bleeding and looking lifeless. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Hanna, you mean so much to me. Then and forevermore. And as I watched people frantically scream because a teenage girl had been hit by a bus, I cursed myself forever and ever. I wasn’t even the one to call the police, Han! Or the ambulance!

I felt so horrible, and I’m sorry. I still remember two years after the accident, when we went to the beach and you wore a bikini for the first time since the accident – and I realised why it was the first time. There was a scar across your side, this wrinkly brown thing that, slowly, was healing completely and disappearing but it was there, it was gross and I told you as much. And you cried, yelling at me that it was my fault. And it was. I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Scarlett

            Now she’s thrashing about the room, yelling and screaming. Profanities and nonsense escape her cracked, sore lips. And in less than an hour, shredded glass and a dent in the wall have appeared. She then sits, not caring about the glass beneath her mangled appearance, with her knees bent and her body propped up by the bony things. Images of a bloodied Hanna enter her mind; the giant screech of the bus jolting to a holt fills her ears. All her fault – all of it and that, well, that can’t be changed.

            She fiddles, with tears running down her cheeks, with a band-aid she retrieved from the medicine cabinet in her bathroom. She wipes away the blood with a soaked-in-tears tissue that only makes the gash sting due to the saltiness. She winces slightly before grabbing a new tissue and wiping away the drying blood. She carelessly places the band-aid on the deepest cut, the one that sits on the bottom of her foot. None of the glass had lodged its way into her skin, except for the one that cut her on the bottom of her foot. But that was easily fixed.

        But the room, the state of the room, it was horrid. It was such a messed up sight that she couldn’t stand looking at it for more than sixty seconds. She purses her lips whilst fiddling with her long, pale fingers. Confusion and horror radiate in her gray orbs for a split second, until anger clouds them. Anger at herself, for ruining the room, for hurting Hanna. She clenches her jaw and forces herself to clear the mess. She wipes away stray tears that work their way out of her eyes unwillingly. Memories of that whole year itself flood into her mind.

          The laughter, the tears, the hurt, the joy. Everything imaginable all in her mind simultaneously, tears racking her body. She reaches for the home phone and digs through her brain for Hanna’s phone number. She is almost pulling her hair out of her head when she remembers it, dialing it and hoping that she still has the same phone. A white iPhone with a sparkling pink cover. “Hello?” Hanna’s beautiful voice cheers Scarlett up instantly.

            “Han!” she exclaims, attempting to rid her tone of the sobs that were previously escaping her lips at no expense. “How are you?” she sniffles slightly and know that Hanna is probably ready to pounce, probably ready to ask what’s wrong.

            “Have you been crying?” Scarlett was right, yet again. “Aw, Scar, baby. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” The girl suppresses her tears as Hanna continues to speak softly, in a tone that one would use when speaking to a child.

            “I’m sorry,” Scarlett sobs, no longer being able to hold the tears that seem to always fall. She reaches for a tissue and blows her nose loudly. Hanna desperately wishes to be there, to be able to cuddle her and tell her that everything is alright. But it probably isn’t. And then, something clicks in her head – like a light bulb.

            “That wasn’t your fault,” Hanna whispers, on the verge of tears herself. “It was mine. All mine, Scar. All mine. You did nothing wrong. Stop blaming yourself. Stop blaming yourself.” She blinks tears away but they just come flooding back to sting her green orbs. In an attempt to change subjects, she clears her throat and, with a hoarse tone, says, “I heard you called Aiden?” After asking this question, the auburn haired girl realises that the calls are pure torture in Scarlett’s eyes. Torture. Torture because of what she apparently did to them.

            “He called first,” she sniffles, wiping away stray tears.

            “Stop,” Hanna demands weakly. “Stop blaming yourself and hurting yourself. None of it was because of you. Aiden broke up with you because he didn’t think that your relationship would survive. I walked in front of that bus because I was aggravated at everything that was happening in my whole damn life, Scar. That wasn’t you. Thank goodness you did annoy me that day, though, Scarlett. I was so close to killing myself already…” Her voice is a mere whisper now. A tiny, little whisper. Much like that of a mouse.

            “No,” Scarlett’s voice is barely audible now.

            “You saved me,” she croaks out and the line goes dead. Scarlett purses her lips, the phone still pressed against her ear, the three words ringing. The endless tone is the loudest noise but for some reason it is just in the background, with Hanna’s three words, voiced in her hoarse tone, prominent and distinct.

            She believes that the words are lies. Stupid, stupid lies. But somewhere deep inside of her, something is telling her it is real. She really did save Hanna. She really did save one of the only people who now care about her. She did save her and if she had not, Hanna would be only a memory. A memory that would scream depressed and suicidal. But she saved the memory of the cheerful girl from being those two words. Maybe, now, the words that everyone will remember her by will be brave and survivor. “You saved me.” And she really did.

Author's Note: 

From now on, there will be indentations in the text like above. Sorry for the long wait! I was, of course, on hiatus so... xx