☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

°•. ┊ Delicate┊.•°
✧ ˚ ━ that meteor strike, act one

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — tape 7, side a

✧

Now

I'm woken up by my dad and he tells me that I'm beyond late for school, so I just say that I'm not going. I feel like I got hit by a semi. My head is pounding and my vision's blurry. Migraine. The day's off to a fantastic start. Pulling my blanket over my head, a groan escapes my lips, as I try to hide from the sunlight shining through my window. A knock on said window, forces me to remove myself from the comfort of my bed. I walk over, finding Zach with a soft smile. As I open it, the boy tumbles inside, popping up off the floor quickly. "So, what do you wear to a deposition? It's not court, right? My mom wants me to wear a suit, but it seems a little much."

"No, it's not court. But I still think we should look presentable." I respond, returning to my spot on the mattress, while he gets comfortable on the other side of my bed. Zach bumps my shoulder with his. "What? You don't skip school and show up here for no reason. And if it's about the subpoenas, you would have texted me yesterday. What's going on, Z?"

"You hear from Justin?"

"I don't know." I release a sigh, reaching over and picking up my phone. I'm nearly blinded by the brightness and mutter angrily to myself, turning it down. "I turned off my notifications. Didn't want to deal with it." And sure as shit, Justin's name is all across my screen in missed calls and texts. Fuck. I call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. That can't be good.

"Hey, it's probably nothing." Zach smiles, attempting to ease my concern. "What time are you going in? I have to get home in a few to change. Gotta be there at like nine-thirty or some shit."

"Uh, ten-ish, I think." My response comes out quietly. "What're you gonna tell them?"

"The truth." His response prompts me to question whether or not he plans on telling them the whole truth or his version of the truth. "Isn't my truth the whole truth?"

"I don't know. There's a ton of sides to every fucking story. Everyone's got their reasons or excuses for what they did. And we're fucking hormonal, irresponsible teenagers who act on emotion. Everyone's a villain in someone's story; even if it was unintentional. Hell, a lot of us probably don't even know or think that we did anything wrong and that's precisely the problem. We're not mindful of the shit we say and for some people, it has a big effect on people." My tangent comes to a close and he looks at me, a little dumbfounded. "Sorry. Sorry, I just, I hate how everyone on those tapes are acting like they didn't do anything wrong. Is it that hard to take some fucking responsibility?"

"Maybe it is, Ang. Maybe it's hard to admit that you fucked up. Especially when you can't do anything to take it back or fix it." The two of us look at one another, understanding where the other person is coming from. The Dempsey boy rises to his feet and rounds to my side of the bed, standing in front of the open window. "See you later?" I give him a nod and he exits the way he entered; heading home to get ready for the deposition. With a quick glance at my phone, I realize that it's about nine o'clock. I've an hour to kill, so I lay down, hoping to sleep off my headache before having to answer questions about my dead friend.

I'm awoken once again by my father, only this time he's informing me that it's a little after nine-thirty and I have to get ready for my meeting with the lawyers. I rub the sleep from my eyes, assessing my reflection in the mirror, and poking at the bags beneath my bloodshot eyes. I take a pair of jeans and a nice sweater, tossing them on and sliding my feet into some flats. Shuffling through the crap on my dresser, I locate a scrunchie, and quickly pull my hair into a side braid. I put on mascara and pinch my cheeks a bit to add some color without having to dig through my makeup bag, then male my way downstairs. "Want to carpool or do you have something to do after?" My dad asks, holding out one of the to-go cups in his hands.

"Uh, we can carpool." I breathe, taking a sip of the beverage. "I don't have anything planned, so that's fine. And it'll give me a reason to avoid people and their bullshit." I smile at him, as we get into his car. The drive is pretty quiet, some random small talk here and there, but he's avoiding asking me about this situation. This and the Jeff thing. He wants to discuss it, but he doesn't want to push any boundaries. Which I am extremely grateful for. I don't even want to talk to the lawyers about it. Any of it. I have exhausted everything I have to say about this entire situation. We pass by Zach and his mom on our way inside; he squeezes my shoulder and gives me a reassuring smile. The receptionist calls me inside and I sit down before a few lawyers, the Bakers, and a camera.

"Good morning, Ms. Monroe." A man greets and I give him a slight smile. "My name is Dennis Vasquez, representing Andrew and Olivia Baker, and this is a deposition. I'll be asking you questions, and you must answer them truthfully. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I respond, clearing my throat and adjusting my position.

"There's no judge present, but this is a formal legal proceeding. You are under the same legal obligation to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Okay, good." He glances down at the legal pad in front of him. "Uh, for the record, please state your full name, your age, where you go to school, and what year you're in."

"My name is Evangeline Aurelia Monroe. I'm 17, and I'm a junior at Liberty High." I start, my eyes traveling everywhere except at the people around me. He proceeds to ask about when the first time I met Hannah was. "I met her at a party, I guess, right before sophomore year started."

"And how well did you know Hannah?" The question catches me a little off guard. Perhaps it's not the question, rather my lack of a straight answer that surprises me.

"Um...I knew her pretty well. We were friends, good friends." He proceeds to ask me about Hannah being bullied, but Mrs. Jensen objects due to something about behavior.

"Did you ever hear anyone say unkind things to Hannah?"

"Yes. Yeah, I heard things. All the time. Whether they were said to her or just simply said about her, I heard a lot." I had that response prepped and ready. A few more procedural questions are thrown at me, which I answer honestly. After everything's all wrapped up, my dad and I walk back outside and I take a deep breath. On our walk to the car, I check my phone, finding an audio message from Jensen. I pause and my dad asks what I'm doing. "I gotta take this. I'll catch up." And once he's out of earshot, I turn up my volume, and hold the device close to my ear. Bryce's voice sounds and what comes out of his mouth is a shock.

She wanted me. Me. She was practically begging me to fuck her. If that's rape, then every girl at this school wants to be raped.

Holy fucking shit. He confessed. I text Clay back and ask him what he plans on doing with the confession. And follow it up with another text asking him whether he handed over the tapes or not. Already knowing the answer to that one. It takes everything I have not to literally jump for joy. We can nail his ass to the wall. Clay's text from the previous night makes sense now. I run over to the car and ask my dad to drop me at Monet's; texting the girls group chat, telling them to meet me there. Either way the tapes are going live soon. We've been sitting on evidence for weeks and someone is going to crack during those depositions. So, I'd rather my sister and best friends hear about them from me. I exit the vehicle and he drives off; I'm the first one here, so I lean against the brick wall, scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. I feel eyes on me, but when I glance around, I find people passing on the street, but none of their eyes linger on me. I brush it off and soon after Kenzie's approaching me, and we head inside. The two of us order, while we await the arrival of the remainder of our party. When we're all sitting down, far away from the rest of the patrons, and fully caffeinated; I start reciting the events of the past few weeks and my friends listen intently.

"Well, that explains everyone's behavior lately." Abbie says, clearing her throat.

"Yeah, and why she didn't leave a note." Sage adds, picking at the muffin in front of her. I warned them about the loss of appetite to come from this discussion, but they insisted that they were starving. "Stupid question, but are you alright?"

"Nope. I'm tired, guys. I can get more than what's considered a good night's sleep, but I wake up and I'm still exhausted." I sigh, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee in my cup. A universal feeling of melancholy surrounds us all.

"I could've told you that Courtney was closeted a long time ago." Mack states, slicing through the silence and causing the rest of us to laugh at her bluntness. "What? That closet was see-through. Translucent, babe."

"Jesus, Kenz." I smile. "It's called tact. You should look it up." With Mackenzie's comment, the topic and energy shifts to just about anything else. And over the next half-hour we laugh away the rest of the world. Unfortunately, reality is one persevering son of a bitch. Abbie and I part ways with our friends and decide to walk home; enjoying the fresh air and the exercise. We get to the house and dad suggests going out for dinner, which Abbie and I agree to. The three of us go to our own rooms to get changed. I drop my bag in my desk chair and take off my shoes, humming softly to myself. A drop in temperature causes me to wrap my arms around myself, my eyes traveling around the room to find that my window is open. And I know it was closed after Zach left. I check my bathroom, finding it empty, and now left with confusion as to who opened my window. I run over and shut it, locking it as well. I sit on my bed, an envelope on my nightstand catching my eye. It's got my name sprawled across the front. Written in familiar handwriting. I just can't quite place it. Pulling my legs into a criss-cross position, I open it and pull out a letter.

Dear Evangeline,

I'm sorry. I know that'll never be good enough, but it's all I have. I ruined Jessica's life, I know that I've fucked up yours more than once, and I even destroyed Hannah Baker's life too. I keep making mistakes. And every time I try to fix them or be better, I fuck it up. This isn't how I wanted to do this, but I figured that I'd save you the trouble of having to yell at me, by leaving this letter. I love you. You deserve a hell of a lot better. And I hope you find it. I'm sorry. Really. I never meant to hurt anyone, especially you. And I know that by leaving I'll be hurting you again, but I'll do less damage far away from you.

I love you, I'm sorry.

Justin

I don't realize that I'm crying, until tears begin to hit the paper in my hands. What an asshole. He's not leaving for me. He's doing it to save his own ass. Or because he's afraid to face the fallout from the tapes. It's not about me. He wouldn't leave if it's for my sake. There's a knock at my bedroom door and my sister opens it slightly, making a joke about whether or not I'm decent. Abbie comes over to me, taking in my dejected state, and proceeding to ask me what happened. I don't answer her, instead I hand her the bullshit letter Justin wrote me. "Justin's gone...he left. He disappeared. And all I got was this stupid fucking letter. What a jackass." I scoff, sniffling softly. She's about to say something, but my phone rings, interrupting her. Zach's name is lighting up my screen and I decide to just answer it. Because apparently when I don't respond, they'll just leave. And I'll find out from a letter. I answer the call and my face drops, my brows furrowing. He tells me that Alex is in the hospital. That he shot himself in the head and he's in critical condition. I get a strange sense of deja vu, as the memory of Scott calling me and telling me that Jeff died runs through my mind.

Like I said; reality's quite the persevering son of a bitch. And what feels like the end, is actually just the beginning...

[word count: 2289]

lexi's letters; and i've finished act one. i'll start season two soon; just want to have at least half the chapters written before publishing them :))