Prologue

She was floating. There was no other word to describe it – she was floating. Weightless. Drifting. It wasn't the sensation she had been expecting. Not that she was sure what she had been expecting. Oblivion maybe. A dark void. Nothingness. She certainly hadn't anticipated buoyancy, this airiness, as if time and space were elastic, without meaning, and yet there was something still there. She could feel it, could feel herself. She had a sense of her own mind, her own soul.

Was this purgatory? Or was this the most she could hope for from death?

How long did she remained suspended in this state? Months? Years? Days? Seconds? She didn't know. Nor did she care. That was one relief (though she could not feel relief) – she had no emotion; no caring, no fear.

The buoying went on, and then a new impression. A tingling. Barely there, then stronger. A prickle, an itch. Annoyance. She felt annoyance. Then a shiver, a sting. Slowly escalating into pain.

Voices, penetrating her silence. Muffled, speaking with cotton in their mouths. There were other noises as well. Mechanical. Musical. She couldn't place them anymore. Colors shot through her vision. She had forgotten about colour. And light. It was so bright, piercing through the thin skin of her eyelids. She wished someone would turn off the light.

By degrees she felt it, the changing shape. The regained pressure and substance. Trapping her inside limbs she couldn't move. No! Stop! She was trapped. She was being pulled back into familiar skin, that intimate form.

With a soft moan, Hannah Baker woke up and opened her eyes.

In the instant she remembered and realized. She had failed.