Fairytales Aren't Perfect

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

                Hannah hadn’t bothered to believe in love after her mother had left her on the front steps of a church. She hadn’t listened to her foster mother, Lisa, rant constantly about the fake emotion of it. Hannah knew she was just heartbroken. Her foster father, John, had taken a lot from them. Their home, their lives, their financial dependencies. He had drank it away in booze and when that had gotten to be too boring for him – he left.

                So when Hannah had first met Ian she had known he was something different. She knew the sadness that lurked behind his eyes of being unloved. She knew the feelings of anger he bottled before letting it erupt. So she had gotten close to him. Loved him like she knew he needed to be loved. Then she’d ruined it. One too many beers and things became a kaleidoscope of colours and dopey decisions, one that resulted in an abortion clinic.

                She had been mortified for days afterwards, putting her hands to her stomach, feeling barren. Knowing that there had been something living growing inside of her and now it was simply gone. Like Magic. Only, she hadn’t bothered to figure out if it was the good kind.

                Hannah knew now that she’d been foolish in telling Ian but she felt like she owed it to her unborn child. As though the little guy was urging her from the other side to do something right by him. So she had. And she’d lost it all.

                She was on her third period study block which was only moments away from ending. Her locker had put up a fight with her and so had her hair. Nothing had been working properly for the past few days and she sometimes wondered if it’d ever work again. She doubted it.

                Pushing a stray curl behind her ear, Hannah prepared to turn the corner. She knew what was beyond it. Ian knew that she had to go down this hallway to get to class and that was precisely why, at this time every day, he was leaned against the third row locker. The one with the dent in it. With some cheerleader on his arm. Pleasure in winning against Hannah rolling off of him in waves, seething from his eyes, jeering at her the fact that he could hurt her. The fact that she’d hurt him.

                She counted the ten steps to the corner and when she was done, she turned. It was like getting hit in the gut then twice in the heart whenever she saw it. She had been foolish to believe that they’d ever shared anything special, ever shared anything that would keep them together.

                Hannah pushed down the bile in her throat and tried to keep her lunch down. She tightened her books to her chest and forced herself to walk. Her forehead burned where she knew Ian was staring, goading her. And God it hurt. It hurt so much but she kept going.

                She had only squeezed her eyes shut for a millisecond when she fell into the floor. There was laughter. A goddess. Then she was in a new dimension of hell. What sucked the most? Her Prince Charming was still a no show.

               

Melody had never felt more alone in her entire life. She was sitting in a hall, a very long and seemingly endless white room. She didn’t know how much time had passed. No, she didn’t want to know. All she wanted to know was a way out.

                She had already wasted so much energy wandering the hall, calling for someone, anyone. No one had responded. So she had given up.

                Now, she sat on the floor. Her arms wrapped around her knees which were pressed tightly to her chest. She wasn’t cold and she wasn’t hot, it just felt right. She could occasionally hear soft murmurs of voices, voices that she recognized but she could not put a face or name to.