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HANNA
19 Years Old
"Have you talked to him?" I ask Logan, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. The wind is brutal tonight.
"No, he won't even look at me."
Tears fall from my eyes. I've cried for four days straight and just can't stop. Apparently, as long as you're sad, the tears never run out. Logan steps out of the way, allowing me into his apartment.
"What happened the other night..." He trails off, making eye contact with me, pulling the door closed behind us.
"Was a mistake," I interrupt. "A horrible mistake."
"Hanna," He pleads, "Don't say that."
"I love Jameson. Kissing. You. Was. A. Mistake." I emphasize.
He pulls back, obviously disappointed. I mean, what is he thinking?
"He's supposed to be your best friend, Logan. We both betrayed him."
"You know that it wasn't like that."
"What was it like, Logan? I was upset, that's it. I don't have feelings for you."
"Why do you keep forgiving him!" He shouts, standing up defensively.
"Why don't you? You have no idea what he's been through."
Logan backs away, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I can't watch this anymore, Hanna. You are going to love him straight into a shallow grave."
"Well, don't! I don't need you, Logan! Stop trying to save me. I don't need to be saved."
My voice is hoarse from sobbing, and I can't even look at Logan right now. I don't know why I thought I'd find Jameson here. Especially after what happened, so I turn to leave.
"Hanna," Logan calls behind me, causing me to turn back. "I'm sorry."
I just nod, closing the door behind me and slipping back into my car.
The road is empty, a ghost town, really. I haven't passed a single car in ten miles. When I get upset, I drive. I just sing along with the radio and tell all of my problems to this empty two-lane road. Knowing damn well those yellow lines won't talk back to me.
The destination never really matters because, by the time my head is clear, I'm usually parked where I should be. That's why I'm not surprised when I pass Jameson's truck parked on the side of the road.
When I say the road is empty, I mean it. The darkness is indescribable, with no street lights, nothing. I turn around and pull up behind his truck, shutting the engine off and climbing out. Praying that he isn't with another girl because I don't know what I'll do if that's what is going on.
The rational part of my brain already shuts down when I'm around him. Hell, my family thinks I've lost my damn mind.
Everyone does.
So if he's parking here with someone else, you might as well call the cops. I'll gladly throw those cuffs on after I punch her pretty face and his too.
I peek into the window of his truck, using my hand as a visor. The windows are tinted, and it's hard to see, but there isn't a soul in there. The fence along the road is high and has multiple no trespassing signs. The field on the other side appears overgrown, and I'm currently cursing myself, knowing good and well, I'm going to climb this fence to find Jameson. He presumably doesn't want to be found, and I'll probably get poison ivy in the process, but I don't care.
I look around nervously before committing to the climb, going up and over the fence quickly, not wanting to get caught. Not that it matters, I kind of had a feeling this was the kind of night I'd have. Not climbing fences and breaking the law, but chasing Jameson straight into something I don't want to see.
I wasn't thinking the other night when Logan fell asleep in our bed. I didn't push him out like I should have. I let him in. I let him be the one to wipe my tears. I was pissed because Jameson only causes them.
I wander around in the dark for a few minutes with just the faint glow of my phone's flashlight. Blinking lights across the field draw my attention, and I start to wonder where the hell I am. I'm stumbling at this point and even a little afraid.
