Hannah's always been an outcast, she'd admit. Not a lot of friends, only the ones that skipped class with her to sneak to the back of the school and get drunk, or the ones that sold her CDs of her favorite bands, usually Nirvana or Metallica. She kept to herself. She ate lunch alone and she got into fights regularly. Her dad taught her how to fight when she was ten years old just before he up and left them — said she needed to learn to defend herself early. Her dad taught her to be tough, to strike them twice as hard, to never let people see you break. Hannah probably took it a little too literally because she isolated herself from people. It was her against the world.
The principal gave her an ultimatum after let last fight: suspension or join the volleyball team. Wendy Grant, the team's libero, had broken her leg and was out the rest of the season. Other than lacrosse, volleyball was Beacon Hill's proudest sport. Hannah hated sports but she also didn't want to put anymore stress on her mother, so she joined the team. She had a lot of anger to release and being a libero gave her the chance to do that. In a way, or at least in the girl's words, Hannah made the team completely.
But in her own way, or the way her father made her to be, Hannah still felt like she didn't connect with them. The girls on the team were all close, especially Lacy, Daphne, and Kayla. They were their own trio. Hannah would watch them before practice, hear Daphne telling them something about Isaac, and she watched them after games, all three of them leaving together to go to a party or spend the night at each other's houses. Daphne was the leader of the group, naturally, because Daphne was the leader of everything. She was Beacon Hill's Sweetheart. Kind to everybody, didn't have a mean bone in her body, she was Lydia Martin's level of popular only she wasn't a bitch. All three of them were popular in their own ways but Daphne, everybody loved Daphne, but not as much as Isaac loved Daphne.
Daphne Torres was a light and now that she was gone, it was everything was dull. The same question swirled the halls every day, every hour, and it followed Hannah like a shadow. What happened to Daphne? What happened to Kayla? What happened to these girls? When Hannah first came back to school, the people around her immediately noticed that something was physically wrong with her. The bell would ring and she would be standing in front of her locker, not moving. She would be in class and the teacher would call on her but she wouldn't answer. The were scars on her ears as well as around her mouth. None of them realized she was deaf until it spread around the school.
Her mom dug into her savings to buy her hearing aids which made hearing easier but even then, Hannah couldn't hear herself talk, so she chose not to talk at all. Isolation chilled her bones, locking her away in a box with her hands shackled like she was back in that shed with her mouth and ears sewn shut. Why are you doing this to yourself Hannah? Why are you hurting yourself even more? You were supposed to die out there but you didn't, so why are you slowly killing yourself? 
Seeing Lacy back at Beacon Hills brought everything back by force. Suddenly, Hannah could hear her screams when he sewed her shut. She could hear the sound of her cries, of her pleading with him to leave them alone, and it was heartbreaking. Seeing Lacy was seeing her failures. It was seeing the sins she committed to stay alive. When their eyes met, both girls saw themselves trapped again, but the thoughts in their heads were different. Hannah swore that Lacy didn't want to know her thoughts. Nobody wanted to.
Lacy stood at the water fountain, leaned against the wall and looking like she couldn't breathe. It was all too much for her. Hannah knew how she was feeling and she'd been back a month now. It doesn't get better. "You're back."
Lacy quietly looked up, hurting her neck, and she stilled at the sight of her. Neither of them spoke, mostly because she was too busy trying to steady her heart. "Hannah," she said quietly.
Hannah read her lips. Her blonde hair was up and off her shoulders, her bangs in her eyes, and her hearing aids were on display. She saw her eyes drift to them. "I didn't think you ever coming back."
"I didn't think I was either." Lacy stood up straight, finally catching her breath, but she still seemed on the edge. "But I needed to."
"I guess," Hannah said shortly, her eyes flickering to the floor for an awkward few seconds. "It feels weird seeing you again, honestly."
Lacy looked like she tried to smile but she couldn't. Something was holding her back. "I can say the same. Feels weird seeing everybody, actually. They're all staring at me like I'm a stranger."
"Oh yeah, they'll do that. I still go through it." She said slightly bitter with a disgruntled smirk. "We're fish out of water to them."
Seeing her but a bad taste in Lacy's mouth. She was different. She saw the stitches on her ears and the hearing aids, which made Lacy's heart sink. Hannah, too, had scars around her mouth. Faded but visible. She was a physical reminder, something that made her feel sick because she saw everything in her mind. It came in sudden flashes. They made her dizzy. "I should go to class." She muttered and gathered the courage (she was aware she was being a coward) to walk away.
Hannah watched her leave with a tight jaw. Her silhouette became smaller and Lacy looked over her shoulder, glancing at her one more time with sullen eyes, and Hannah saw her mouth sewn shut, blood covering her mouth. She touched her own lips and parted them quickly, realizing they weren't sewn shut but she felt the bumps of the scars. Her heart rate spiked tremendously and Hannah moved towards the wall, leaning against it when she felt utterly weak. She was free. She was reached. He couldn't hurt her. But when she shut her eyes, Hannah saw His face and she heard her own screams, tasted her own blood, saw the girls screaming and crying, smelled the putrid scent of Daphne's body that He put on display. Everything in her mouth tasted metallic. There was blood on her shaking hands. 
How did I get here?
How did I get here?
What did I do to deserve this?