TROUBLED || thirteen reasons why

001.

She has never given much thought to how she would die, but Tristan Foley hopes it wouldn't be like this. The fifteen year old's eyes sting with pain as she lays in her sunken down twin-sized bed. It is past daybreak, she knows that, but with the stillness in the air, Tristan knows that no one else in the run-down apartment is awake.

Her body aches and even the slightest movement of her limbs sends waves of discomfort through her. Tristan's mind is clouded and as she tries to search through the haze for the reasoning of her pain, she can only see what looks like the static from a television. The girl huffs, biting her lip through the pain. Tristan rolls over and opens her eyes.

Her bedroom has never been much. Small and cramped, the girl can barely fit her bed against the wall and has a wooden desk set in front of her single window. Other than a wardrobe and an accumulative amount of posters she has taped to the wall, Tristan doesn't have a lot.

Tristan pulls her frayed comforter off and sits up; she takes a sharp breath, immediately regretting it. She squeezes her eyes shut again, slowly trudging her feet against the cold laminate to her mirror that is hung beside her wardrobe. Her heart sinks.

She remembers why her body hurts as her eyes look into the reflection of the purpling marks littering her arms. Tristan's fingers grip her tshirt and pulls it over her head to reveal even more bruises on her stomach. She releases a short breath. Fuck.

The girl remembers her mother being in the living room the past night with her boyfriend. She remembers that Seth Massey has never been a nice guy. She remembers herself stepping out of her room once she heard voices being raised, and the man jerking her mother up by the throat. Tristan can see herself shouting and intervening, and Seth turning his attention to her. She remembers the first time that he knocked her down and when her mother screamed for Seth to stop. She remembers the second. And the third. Things start to get fuzzy after that, but she recalls her Amber Foley telling Seth to get out.

Tristan hopes that he isn't here.

Noise from outside her door bring Tristan back to reality. It's the sound of broken glass and footsteps, but even though fear courses through her body, Tristan finds herself unlocking her door to see out.

Someone is kneeling on the floor, picking shards of glass with their hands. Tristan's face heats up as she looks at the dark brown hair of the teenage boy getting up off the ground. He turns around but stops when he catches a glimpse of Tristan peeking out her door, "Tris?"

Tristan's eyes fall from the boy. She knows that he wasn't home last night, and her mind wonders to the possibilities that could have happened if he was. If her brother was there last night, she thinks, something would have been different, their mom wouldn't have been hurt... or her. She backs away from her door and picks up a sweatshirt from her floor. She hears his voice again as her brother cautiously walks into her room, "You okay?"

Tristan looks out her window, out to the shitty view of the parking lot below them, she hears him stop behind her. She feels his eyes as he stares at her bruises. Tristan pulls the thick material of the sweatshirt over her head to hide the evidence of what had happened the night before, "I'm fine, Justin."

"I... I'm sorry, Tristan," Justin's voice is strained, and he pulls on his sister's arm to make her face him. His eyes meet hers, but Tristan has to look away, embarrassed that she wasn't strong enough to defend their mother. "If he ever comes back here, I'll kill him."

Tristan scoffs as she backs away and pulls on her shoes. She grabs her backpack off the floor and pushes past Justin, "Bryce will be here in a few minutes. Get ready."

Tristan hesitantly tugs her sleeves down again when she and her brother reach the black Range Rover belonging to Justin's best friend, Bryce Walker. Bryce's window is rolled down and he looks at the siblings over the rims of his expensive Ray Bans, "I was about to fucking leave you two, hurry up. Justy, where are your manners? Let the lady sit up front!"