STRANGER| DE LA CRUZ

PROLOGUE

Her voice, both sweet and fractured, slithered through the headphones, enveloping her ears as she sat on the bed, legs crossed, a tequila bottle pressed to her lips. She took a gulp of the burning liquid, momentarily distracted from the haunting presence of Hannah Baker by the taste and sensation. But even in her hazy state, the voice persisted, loud and clear, penetrating her mind. Startled, she spewed out the brown liquid, its trail staining her shirt, and urgently nudged him with her foot.

He groaned softly, his body twisting around, fixated on the looming figure in the darkness. As his hand slid up her leg, the combination of alcohol and his touch momentarily diverted her attention from the lingering shadow of Hannah "fucking" Baker. It felt as though she was there with them, an unwelcome spectator. Reacting almost instinctively, she pushed his hand away, igniting a fire of anger within his eyes.

"Mont, listen," she impatiently demanded, thrusting the imposing headphones towards him. Eyeing them suspiciously, he glanced up at her, weariness etched on his face. Reluctantly, he accepted the headphones and cautiously placed them on his head. Instantly, he was confronted with the voice he believed he would never hear again.

"Hey, it's Hannah... Hannah Baker," the voice rang out, live and in stereo. "Don't adjust your... whatever device you're hearing this on. It's Hannah Baker, live and in stereo. No return engagement, no encore, and this time, absolutely no requests. Get a snack, and settle in because I am about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically why my life ended And if you're listening to this tape, you're one of the reasons why. I'm not saying which tape brings you into the story, but fear not if you received this lovely little box your name will pop up..."

A heavy silence descended upon the room, the echoes of Hannah Baker's voice lingering in the air. Monty's mind raced with a mix of confusion and disbelief as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. He stared at the discarded headphones on the floor, their presence serving as a stark reminder of the haunting message they had just heard.

"What the hell was that?" he finally managed to utter, his voice trembling with a jumble of emotions.

His companion, still reeling from the shock, reached out and urgently grabbed his arm, her touch offering both comfort and a sense of urgency. "I don't know, Mont. I don't know how..." Her voice trailed off into silence as she gazed intently at the tangled sheets.

Monty nodded, his mind slowly clearing from the initial shock. Reluctantly, he reached for the abandoned headphones, handling them with caution and purpose. Although he wasn't eager to hear the voice of the deceased girl again, he realized they had no choice but to delve into her tumultuous story. He carefully placed the headphones between them, bracing himself for whatever revelations lay ahead.

"We need to listen," Monty asserted firmly, holding the headphones against his ears. "We need to understand how we could have been a part of whatever this is."

His companion nodded, her grip on his arm tightening. Together, they leaned in, their undivided attention fixed on Hannah's voice, telling her life at liberty and subsequent death as the haunting tape recordings continued.

"What the hell?"

"This... that wasn't entirely..."

"Shit."

Even from beyond the grave, it seemed that Hannah Baker wanted to bring more chaos and drama into their lives. As if dismissing her own actions wasn't enough, she sought to justify her story.

In the midst of their confusion, they found themselves torn between incredulous laughter and frustration as they continued to listen.