FicWad

A/N: Pretty short...sorry it took me so long. Writers block = This chapter is dedicated to Izzy ^^/

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Mark walked up the front steps and opened the front door, shivering; it was raining. He unlaced his work boots and ran his fingers through his white-blond hair. I have to tell him. I have to warn him, give him a heads up... Mark walked into the living room, where he found Andy, Pete and Hannah, all laughing about something Hannah had said.
"Hey guys...Pete, can I talk to you in the next room for a second?"
"Mark-" Hannah began, narrowing her eyes;
"Hannah, I want a civil word with my best friend, okay?"
Hannah sighed and let go of Pete's hand. Pete stood up and followed Mark into the kitchen. Pete pulled a chair out from the table, spun it around and sat down, facing Mark, who was leaning against the counter. He breathed out slowly and looked at Pete.
"What exactly happened last night?"
Pete shifted in his seat.
"I'm not gonna freak out, okay? Yeah, she's my little sister, but I need to know."
Pete nibbled nervously on his lower lip.
"Well...we had a few drinks...and I woke up next to her."
Mark closed his eyes, turning his face towards the ceiling.
"Please, don't let her drink. I know you didn't know, but just...just say no next time."
"But...why? I don't understand."
Mark took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.
"Something...something happened when she was about thirteen. I'm not sure what, she never talks about it. But she started hanging with the wrong crowd...she started drinking. And using pot. Maybe even coke at that point, I dunno. But I kept it from Mum and Dad, I stayed up late, waiting for her to come home, I put her to bed and kept the signs hidden."
Pete was silent, but his eyes were wide.
"It got worse. She started cutting herself. There were bruises on her forearm sometimes, I think she started using heroin."
Pete swallowed hard and covered his mouth with his hand.
"My mum noticed the cuts on her wrist...she got her a therapist. But Hannah didn't want help...she ran away. Twice."
Pete was trembling slightly.
"After she was home for good, she was absolutely out of control. She didn't eat, she was violent, all she wanted was more drugs. I guess it was around her eighteenth birthday, things seemed to get better. Sometimes I'd still hear her coming home late at night, stumbling around, but she was much better than before. She's been on-and-off ever since...Pete, are you okay?"
Pete was clutching his stomach, rocking gently back and forth, his eyes wide. He snapped back to reality, looking up at Mark with glassy eyes.
"I'm fine, I just...didn't realize."
Mark nodded.
"Look, it's none of my business what goes on between you, her being my baby sister or not. I just want you to look out for her, okay?"
Pete nodded.
"I promise."
No one noticed that Hannah was pressed up against the wall around the corner, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hannah laced up her black leather boots all the way up to knees. She slipped a tight belly shirt over her head and put on a micro-mini jean skirt, then turned to her makeup bag, layering on some dark makeup. She turned to study herself in the mirror;
"Sexy." she muttered, striking a pose. She laughed quietly; This is gonna be the best night ever. Suddenly, Hannah jumped; footstep were coming down the basement steps. She frantically looked around; she had to hide this outfit. The feet were now in the hallway. Hannah dove onto the bed, and covered herself up to her neck as Pete entered.
"Hey, sweetheart...are you okay?"
Hannah faked a cough.
"Feeling a bit sick." she mumbled hoarsely, putting on a good show.
"Aww." Pete moaned softly, stepping forward.
Hannah's grip on the covers tightened as Pete came closer, placing a soft hand on her cheek. He frowned.
"Are you wearing black eye shadow?"
"You wear it, too!"
Pete smiled lightly;
"Yeah, but I've never seen it on you."
"You've known me for about four days."
Pete tilted his head.
"I know. It just feels...like I've known you forever."
"I wonder why." she whispered under her breath.
"Hmm?"
"Never mind." Hannah replied, shaking her head.
Pete studied her face for a moment, frowning. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead.
"I have to go take care of some stuff with the label tonight, mmkay? I won't be home until late."
Hannah smiled sweetly.
"Okay, m'dear."
Pete kissed her lips this time, and he left the room. As soon as Hannah heard the distant sound of the front door closing, she jumped out of the bed and darted for the basement exit.

~

It was late when Hannah stumbled through the front door...or early, rather. She closed the door as quietly as she could; but she was trashed. VERY trashed. Her boots were noisy to begin with, let alone the wasted person inside of them. She grasped along the wall, trying to get to the stairs-
"What are you doing?!"
Hannah looked up; it took a moment for her green eyes to focus, but Mackena stood before her, wearing tight jeans and a black bra. Joe was visible on the couch, in his boxers. He looked sheepish. Hannah smiled drowsily.
"Just...tryin' ta...getdownstair..." she slurred.
Mackena shook her black hair in disgust;
"You know, Pete and Andy came home tonight, and Pete couldn't find you? He was worried sick, but you didn't answer your cell!"
Hannah glanced from Mackena's bra to Joe on the couch and burst into a fit of giggles.
"And what may I ask are you two doing?" she cried, trying to keep her voice steady, but she slurred still.
Mackena now blushed. She looked down at her bare feet.
"Patrick and Joe share a room..." she explained, trailing off.
Hannah slumped down the wall that was supporting her, seeing stars. Mackena sniffed the air suspiciously.
"God, what were you into tonight?"
Hannah shrugged.
"Bita...this'n that..." she muttered. She giggled again.
Joe stood up, pulling a teeshirt on.
"I'll help you downstairs." he sighed.
Together, him and Mackena lifted Hannah up and Joe led her carefully down the stairs. But it was hard; Hannah was giggling and talking up a storm, not even waiting for Joe to answer, and her breath smelt of alcohol. To make matters worse, there was definitely a bruise on her forearm; heroin. Joe swallowed hard and knocked gently on Pete's bedroom door. Instantly, it flew open.
"Hannah! Joe, oh God, thanks so much, did she just get home? Hannah, what the hell?" Pete exploded, taking Hannah's hand gently. She fell to her knees, and Joe helped her up again.
"She's, uh, reeeally trashed. More than last night. And...I think she's high, too..."
Pete nodded, undisturbed by this piece of information.
"Probably," he agreed, "Thanks, man. G'night."
Joe threw one last disapproving and pitiful glance at Hannah, and clapped Pete sympathetically on the should, turning to leave. Pete closed the door and helped Hannah into the room.
"Hannah...I was worried."
Hannah giggled in response. Pete shook his head and patiently unlaced her black boots. He helped her into bed and lay down next to her, reaching for the light- suddenly, Hannah was straddling him, nipping at his ear, her hot breath on his neck.
"Hannah, no, you're drunk..." he said patiently, trying to push her off of him. She slipped her hands under his shirt.
"Hannah! Get off me!"
"We were drunk the other night!" she argued.
"Fuck, Hannah, just go to sleep!" he snapped. This time he pushed her off, and she made no attempt to argue. Within minutes, she was dead asleep. But Pete lay awake, worrying.

A floor directly above their bedroom, Patrick lay awake; Joe's bed was empty. His eyes were wide as he listened to Pete snap, "Fuck, Hannah, just go to sleep!" Several tears slipped onto his pillow.