Why Her? (13 Reasons Why)

Chapter 3

"Desperate screams"

"Vanessa", I heard my mother, who was in the frame of my door, "Come on, wake up. It's half past three, we must go to the morgue-"

"Oh, right", I growled. I thought all this was a bad dream.

But is not. Hannah is still dead.

"C'mon darling. We must not be late", she let go and left.

I got up sleepy from my bed and went to brush my teeth in the bathroom. I went downstairs and headed to where Dad was with a newspaper in hand. He was sitting on the couch while he waited for us to arrive. I wouldn't ask him how he was because clearly we were all in the same situation. Reconciling some sleep for me has been one of the worst efforts I have had to make since the last three days.

"What does the newspaper say today?", I asked.

"Nothing new", he replied, "Have you dyed your hair?"

I looked at the tips of my hair for inertia, "No, dad. It must be dirty."

"Oh sure. Although that dirty color would suit you."

"Daddy, this has always been my hair tone", I said subtly, "Do you remember that you always told us that it was the only thing that differentiated Hannah from me?"

"Oh, right",  he said with a certain tone of sadness. My mother arrived seconds later with an attempt at a less disastrous hairstyle. I looked at her for certain seconds and saw Dad again, who now cried like a child.

"What's up, Dad?", I said.

"I can't ...", he sobbed. After that my mother started and there was little left for me to start crying too.

"We have to keep going", I tried not to be so indifferent, but it sounded more like I was stifling a shout, "We must go. If you want, I drive and you guide me."

[...]

The establishment was too cold. It was basically a freezer where they let the dead rot as slowly as possible. The specialist was walking in front while I was in the middle of my parents, who wrapped us in a warm but sour hug. The hallway to where my sister's body was getting longer and longer for me. I couldn't breathe calmly, as if at every step my oxygen ran out. For my parents it must be worse. When the man stopped and opened the door, there was a kind of metal box where the bodies were inserted, as they appear in the CSI series .

"Are you ready?", he asked us to stop in front of one. I had written my sister's name, her date of birth and cause of death.

Suicide.

"Open it, please", I released. The man looked at me in dismay and slowly opened the trunk, giving off the gray complexion of my twin.

I was completely petrified, not knowing how to react. My parents were sobbing, hugging each other. But not me. I didn't know what to feel or what to do. I just dropped to my knees in front of Hannah. The tears were meaningless, ruining the makeup that covered all those days awake from the news.

"Hannah..." I whispered as I brushed my fingers on her face. It was cold as winter.

"We conclude that...", the man tried to say, "The lack of blood and self-inflicted wounds gave the cause of death of the young woman. We regret your loss and we will leave you a couple of minutes alone."

"Thanks..." my mother released, but she just looked at nothing. Dad had his hand on my shoulder still crying.

"Can I have a moment alone with her?", I asked,  "I need-- to do something."