Stained

Chapter 18

I knock twice on Hannah's door and as I wait, I try to erase all memory of Damien. Mostly the blush I know is still staining my cheeks.

A minute later, Hannah's mum opens the door and when she sees me she smiles, "Hazel sweetie, how nice of you to drop by."

I guess Hannah didn't tell her mum I was coming, but the again, she seemed too hysteric to form a coherent sentence, never mind tell her mum I was coming over. I give her an apologetic smile, "sorry for dropping by unannounced, but is Hannah in her room ?" I ask as she steps aside to let me in.

"You're welcome anytime." She smiles down at me as I unlace my converses awkwardly with one hand, not wanting her to see my bandaged wrist and ask questions.

I smile up at her. My mum says she's always telling her how much she likes having me over. "And yes, She's in her room. Just go on up ."

I neatly put my shoes on the shoe rack neatly, then run up the stairs to her room, eager to get to her. Her rooms right at the top of the steps, on the right-hand side.

Throwing open her door, I immediately grab her from where she's sitting on edge of the bed and smash her to my chest. She instantly wraps her arms around me and sobs into my chest as I smooth her hair away from her face.

"It's ok. I'm here now. Let it all out," I mumble into her hair, feeling guilty for not coming here sooner. Can't believe I let Damien- Nope, not going to think about him.

She tightens her arms around me, and I didn't think it was possible, but she cry's even harder, concealing her sobs into my chest. My heart aches for her and I have to suppress the urge to find Hayden and beat the crap out of him.

I'm not a violent person so that says a lot.

After what feels like hours, Hannah lets go and looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach, all violent thoughts instantaneously forgotten as I cup her tear-stained cheeks with my good hand. Yeah, not going to risk that again.

"Hannah," I whisper, concern lining my tone. I hate to see her like this. Especially since she's always acting insane and impulsive. Never giving a second thought toward her psychotic behaviour. Her motto is YOLO along with never dwelling. 'Life's too short to dwell. At the end of the day, whatever happens, happens, don't dwell on it, just move forward.' She used to live by that before that Pig cheated on her.

"I'm okay. Have you brought the tests? I want to get this over and done with ." She moves back and wipes her tears off with the back of her hand.

I nod my head yes. "Go into the bathroom." I rub my thumbs under her eyes. "Wash your face with cold water and—."

"You know that only works in movies, right?" She laughs and I could jump up and down from finally hearing it.

I give her a light shove toward the door. "Just do it. I'll bring you the tests there."

"Fine," she grumbles.

Once she's in the bathroom, I grab the bag, take out the snacks I brought to cheer her up and join her in the small bathroom attached to her bedroom.

Hannah's sitting on the toilet lid with her head buried in her hands. Going over to her, I crouch down in front of her and pull her hands away from her face. She's not crying but the fear etched across her face is as bright as the light streaming through the window from the lampposts outside.

"Here," I pass her the bag.

She takes it with a small smile. "Thanks."

I point a thumb over my shoulder to the door. "I'll be in your room if you need me." I hesitate for a moment. "Unless you want me to stay with you?"

She nods her head no, "I'll be ok."

I walk out of the bathroom, close the door behind me and move toward the bag I dropped at the door when I practically tackled her. Pulling my phone out, I send my mum a quick text, letting her know I'm at Hannah's.

Just as I've hit send, the bathroom door swings open and Hannah enters the bedroom, anxiously fiddling with her fingers. I fling my phone on the bed and stand up.

"So?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, trying to suppress my nerves. I need to be strong for her. For once in my life, I need to try to be strong and actually be strong.

She gestures with her hand for me to come into the bathroom. I follow her inside and immediately spot the pregnancy sticks on the sink. She did them all.

She's not speaking and it's making it harder for me to keep my nerves at bay. "Hannah?" I face her, she doesn't meet my eyes but I can tell she's on the verge of crying again.

Hannah is beautiful with her shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes and honey brown skin. She's a bit shorter than me, which selfishly makes me happy because I'm shorter than everyone else I know.

I grab her face in both my hands, forcing her to look at me, but wince from the jolt of pain the movement causes my right hand. My worry for her made me forget all about my messed up hand and I know without a doubt that I'm going to regret it when her eyes widen as she looks down at my bandaged hand. She grabs it harshly, and I flinch.

She peers up at me with narrowed eyes. "What happened ?" She asks, examining my hand in hers.

"I hurt it during boxing." I bite my lip, waiting for the impending lecture. She scrunches her nose up in a way that tells me she's about to start. Here we go. I should probably ask her sister to join us with the popcorn: she'd love this.

"I fucking tell you to calm down, to not go too crazy on the bag but you never fucking listen and now look at what you've done."

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, knowing it's not over. However, I'm glad for the shift in her mood, even if it is anger.

"Did you go to the hospital? Did they bandage it up? Knowing you, you'd leave it as it was."

I know I'll be in for a lot more if I tell her I didn't go to the hospital, so I decide to keep it to myself and wordlessly nod my head yes.

"Do you know what's wrong with it ?" She holds my hand up in front of her face as if it's something disgusting.

"I sprained it," I tell her, focusing my gaze on my hand in hers, not wanting to see the anger that I know must be evident on her face.

"Well you deserve it," she says and my eyes grow so huge, my eyebrows feel like they're touching my hairline. She shrugs her shoulders as if say to say, I don't care. "At least from now on you won't go all psycho on the punching bag."

"I do not!" I protest. It's a punching bag. You're supposed to hit it. It's made solely for that purpose. What does she expect me to do, coo it?

Suddenly, the anger on her face is replaced with worry. And the reason why hits me: The pregnancy tests.

"Hey," I grab her hand, reassuringly. "It's going to be ok." She nods her head yes, nervously. "Cmon'," I pull on her hand but she doesn't budge.

I turn around and raise my eyebrows — unfortunately, I'm not one of few that can raise one eyebrow.

"You check for me." She fiddles with the hem of her red camisole, avoiding my gaze.

"No." I pull on her hand, bringing her attention back to my face. "We will do it together." She needs to be brave because if that pregnancy test comes out positive she can't ask me what to do for her. She needs to take control of her life like I did because it's that: her life.

I pull on her hand again and she bites her bottom lip, probably trying to push away the tears sticking to her lash line. But I don't stall. It takes everything in me to not hug her, but one of us needs to be brave. If we both cower in anticipation for the worst, she won't get through this.

I finally manage to pull her toward the tests on the sink. We both look at each other one last time; knowing that if those tests read positive nothings going to be the same ever again.

Looking down, my eyes grow wide along with Hannah's as we look between the two tests.