More Than Twice| Open Wound #1✔

01|Reveals

"She knows why she chose to be a bad girl, it was the only way to protect her heart from him. But no matter what she did he always knew the right way in." -Jasmine

Hannah Jensen

I was closed off in my room,ignoring the world opposite my wooden door. The duvet was pulled off my head, and it laid on my chest. I glared at the ceiling, the blinding white paint suddenly seemd utterly mesmerising, with dried tears stained on my cheeks and a mind swirling with a sea of thoughts.

"Hannah!" my mother's voice echoed from down the hall but I didn't bother to answer. At the moment, my appearance resembled zombies from the walking dead movie or any other terrifying creatures you could possibly think of.

I have been weeping for hours and my pillows were drenched, and now, not a trace of energy left in my system as I slumped on the bed once more after I tried, but failed to leave my bed. My whole body was numb, so when my mother tried and called for a second time, she realised that there was no use and to not waste her energy because I was as stubborn as a mule and I would never answer her, especially in my state.

After I heard her last call, I grunted and rolled over my stomach, pulling the duvet along with me to cover me from head to toe. Not more than five minutes later, I heard a faint knock on my door followed with the familiar voice of my best friend of sixteen years, Hailey Monroe.

"Hannah, it's me may I come in?"

Every cell in my body begged for me to not answer her because I was void of any emotions. But I also couldn't deny the fact that I wanted the consolation of my best friend and someone to lean on so I reluctantly released a throaty 'yes', barely a whisper but thankfully she heard me because I was certain I would have fallen flat on my face if I made any attempt to move again.

Her faint footsteps became more prominent as she approached my bed. The bed dipped as she sat at edge next to my leg, and lightly shook my foot to capture my attention.

"Han, you know you can talk to me." After several minutes of gathering myself, I took a deep breath and pulled myself up then leaned against the head board, my head bent down as I fiddled with the duvet that had fell to my waist.

I was clad in an oversized white shirt with blue basketball shorts and my hair was disheveled, as if I had went a few rounds with a lightning bolt, and my face was no doubt as pale as snow, with conspicuous puffy and crimson eyes, but I didn't feel the slightest bit self-conscious. I lifted my head and peered at her through my wet lashes.

She gasped. Her face held so much concern and that was all it took for me to begin my water works once more. She quickly pulled me towards her in a tight embrace, as if I would suddenly dissappear, and tunnelled her hands through my hair soothing me as chocked sobs escaped my throat.

When I finally calmed down, and only silent whimpers fell from my lips, we sat in a comfortable silence, with my head remaining on her shoulder, and her hold never faltering, preventing me from breaking any further. The side of her shirt was soaked with my tears but she didn't complain nor pulled away, instead she stayed put and rubbed my back soothingly until I finally sobered up.

I pulled away from her and she cradled my cheeks forcing our eyes to meet. Wiping the tears that trickled down my red cheeks, she gazed at me with a solemn expression plastered on her round shaped face.