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***I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life

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I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why.

What is she talking about? I don't remember doing anything to her, because it never happened. Why is she lying?

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... I promise.

Now, why would a dead girl lie?

Hey! That sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie? Answer: Because she can't stand up.

I snicker, she shouldn't make jokes like that. 'She is dead,' I remind myself, she can't make jokes.

Go ahead. Laugh.

Oh well I thought it was funny.

What kind of sick joke is this? Why would Hannah record these tapes? Was her life that bad? Questions keep running through my head, but, one keeps popping up. Why did Clay have these tapes? It's obvious this is the recording that played over the school speakers at the pep-rally. Is Clay on the tapes?

Clay is way too nice to do something to make a girl kill herself.

Or maybe not.  

The rules are pretty simple. There are only two. Rule number one: You listen. Number two: You pass it on. Hopefully; neither one will be easy for you.                                                                                     When you're done listening to all thirteen sides-because there are thirteen sides to every story-rewind the tapes, put them back in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little tale. And you, lucky number thirteen, you can take the tapes straight to hell. Depending on your religion, maybe I'll see you there.

In case you're tempted to break the rules, understand that I did make a copy of these tapes. Those copies will be released in a very public manner if this package doesn't make it through all of you.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Do not take me for granted... again.

I press pause, my breathing is speeding up. I start to have an anxiety attack, I run down stairs and pour a glass of water, which I chug down in what seems one gulp. My breathing starts to slow down. This was normal for me, when Bryce started abusing me I would have anxiety and panic attacks a lot.

I had to take pills so I could sleep and eat.

But, like an idiot, I stayed with Bryce.

I look over towards the stairs, to see Alex shaking his head. "I'm not gonna lie, it isn't gonna get better. Each tape gets worse and worse, especially tape 12." I look at him and breath out a response, "tape 12? It's mine isn't it?'

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