13 Reasons Why (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - The Chalk Machine - full transcript

Tyler and Cyrus embrace their outsider status. Alex fights to recover his lost memories. Ryan and Mrs. Baker look to Hannah's poems for clues.

Nothing that's worth anything
comes without pain.

A work of art is only good
if it arises from necessity,

from need.

And it can be political need
or personal need

or, ideally, both.

Art should be confrontation.
It should shock and scare you.

And Hannah,

she was an artist in need.

And I think that's what happened.

And she freaked people out.

All right.

And how does this not make us more likely
to be the targets of abuse and ridicule?

Because it's like claiming the word
as our own.


Like saying we're the assholes,
so don't fuck with us.

Okay, yeah, sort of like
our superhero outfits, right?

Like, "It's a bird, it's a plane,
it's the Assholes. It's us."

Yeah. Just maybe don't say that.

A soul in need
needs a way to express it.

Silence is never the answer.

But when there's so much going on
inside you...

...society expects us to stay silent.

And it's a dangerous thing
when there's so much going on inside you,

but no one to share it with.

Kevin? Honey, you forgot your lunch.

- Thanks. I'll be right there.
- Okay.

Good Lord.
These morning practices are killing me.

I'm passing out at exactly 4:30 today.

Or you could come back to my place.

I don't think I'm gonna have the energy...

For dinner? My parents wanna meet you.

- They do?
- Yeah.

That's so cool.

- Oh, my God, that's so terrifying.
- No. It's no big deal.

My dad happens to be in town for a bit.

I'm always talking about you.

I'm so excited. Amazing.

- See you in third.
- Okay. Bye.

Babe, I wanted to talk to you about...

Wait. I should buy a dress.

- You don't need to buy a dress.
- Or at least go and change.

- I'll need at least an hour, okay?
- Yeah, fine.

Hey, uh, how is practice

with all the captain stuff
and, you know, Jess?

It's great. It's going really well.

Cool. Awesome. Okay.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Hannah needed
to reclaim her power.

Are you gonna ask him about the Polaroid?

I don't trust him any more
than I did yesterday.

How can you not trust
that little sleeping angel?

The fuck are you looking at?

Justin, do you think
that you can keep your shit together

until someone comes over
to look after you later?

I'm running late. I gotta get to school.

I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter.

It's just so fucking cold in here.

- Chills. He has a fever.
- It's chills. You have a fever.

Well, get him another blanket.

- Maybe a shower would help.
- I'm not that bad.

You smell like dead feet.
Just shower, please.

Oh, I'm hungry.

How can you be hungry?
You threw everything up.

Maybe that's why I'm hungry.

Take a shower.

Have you seen this?

My God, was there anyone in your class
this Hannah wasn't involved with?

What? What do you mean?

Every day,
there's another boy in this story.

It's not surprising
that she had a reputation.

I will just be glad
when this is all over for you tomorrow,

and you are as far removed
from this mess as possible.


Hey. Your mom's starting to think
you're avoiding us.

Avoiding you? No. No, no.
I've just got a lot going on, you know?

You can't take every meal in your room.

I've just got so much work.

How about taking a break with me tonight?
Vertigo is at the Crestmont.

Let's go.

Oh, wow. I, um...

Is that the shower?

Yeah. Yeah, that's my, um...

I just figured I'd grab some food
while I let it heat up.

The new tankless heater
takes a while to warm up.

- Shouldn't take this long.
- It's not a big deal.

No, sometimes the valve
is on the cold side.

It's all good. Have some coffee.

Yeah, I'll get more. Yeah. Movie tonight?

Exciting. So, yeah, thanks.

What the fuck?

Yeah, Dad. Plenty hot.
Water heater's totally working.

- Shit. Sorry.
- Just quiet.


Can you get out now?

It has to look like
I'm the one in the shower, idiot.

Well, can you pass me some more shampoo?

These kids need to be sympathetic, Olivia.

I worry about calling Ryan Shaver.
His deposition was practically smug.

We're putting pieces together. We have to
get Hannah's poem into evidence,

and he's the one who...

printed it.


- Hi. I'm Andy.
- Oh, of course, I remember.

- Will you be joining us today?
- No, he won't.

Well, I'll give you two a minute.

I wanna be here with you.

I need to be here.
I'm sorry I haven't been.

The things they've been saying in there,

things that you'll hear, you have no idea.

I'll learn.

I don't know.
It's definitely not the pool house.

So, where is it, then?

I could ask one of the guys
and maybe figure out...

No. You stay here
until you're clean. For Jessica.

I could just show this around. It's...

No, I got it. Thanks.

Fuck me. Fuck.


He's my babysitter?
What happened to Sheri?

Sheri couldn't skip twice in a row.
She's taking the evening shift.

I thought he wanted nothing to do with me.

No, I don't.

So keep your mouth shut
and don't piss me off.

Don't piss me off.

And if you puke on this leather,
I'm gonna have to kick your ass.


So, WebMD detox info and contingency plans
are on the desk.

Don't let anyone see you. And I gotta go.

Um, have fun.
Don't kill each other. Thanks.


But, as is almost always the case
in high school,

we mock what we don't understand.

That's what kids at Liberty did to Hannah.

What about faculty?

I mean, didn't they express concern
over the poem's suicidal contents?

The poem was read aloud
in Mrs. Cusick's class. That's about it.

So no one addressed

the anonymous author's
obvious cry for help

or asked you who wrote it?

Nope. No one took it seriously.

But then again, they rarely do.

Mr. Down?

My office, now.

I think you know why you're here.

Yeah, I'm aware.

You wanna tell me about these?

Wait, that's what this is about?

You took the pictures.

Yeah, last year.

How'd they end up saying, "drunk slut"?

Mr. Porter, I didn't do that.

I went into the photography classroom,

and the printer history in the lab
said that you were signed in.

Someone must've used it while
I was developing in the darkroom then.


So do we know who might be doing this
to Jessica, then?

Same person who smashed my camera.
Did anyone ever find them?

But Jessica and I get messed with?

And the people that deserve
to get messed with never do.

I think that can change.

I'll believe it when I see it.

Isn't this, like,
your special resources period?

Yeah, I hate that shit.
I just... I gotta listen to these again.

Alex, uh...

last time, you listened,
I think, multiple times.

Yeah, I know. I just...

I keep listening to mine over and over
because it doesn't make sense.

It's like I'm missing something.

Do you...

Do you wanna talk about it?

- Aren't we talking about it?
- I guess so.

Hey, what is that guy doing?

Uh, chalking the field.

What is that machine?

I don't know.
Like... I guess it's a chalk machine?

I gotta go.

I don't know
if it's called a chalk machine.

No, I just...

- Look, don't listen too hard, okay?
- Yeah.

It seems like nothing
until the hurricane hits.

Is that why you did it, Alex?

I can't pretend to know
what goes on in someone else's head.

It's poetry.

Most of the poets in our group
write about dark and messed-up things.

So you had no idea that Hannah
was crying out for help in her work,

or so the prosecution
would have us believe,

but you expect the school
to draw that conclusion?

It's their job, isn't it?

I mean, I'm sorry,
but I'm not a licensed therapist,

or a teacher.

Ryan, isn't it true that you worked
with Hannah

on many of her other poems?

Some, yes.

And do you recognize these?

Yes, they're other poems
from Hannah's journals.

Defense Exhibit F, Your Honor.

Uh, Ryan, did you work with Hannah
on this poem?

Yes, I did.

Would you read this poem
for the court, please?

"Oh, fruit forbidden,
so sour, so sweet..."

"I have been banished from the garden,

and I don't think I miss it.

And yet I want another bite."

I like how you subverted the ode.
That's good.

Some obvious metaphors there,

but there's a universality to it.

I'm just...

Sorry, uh, keep going.

I was going to say, I'm just wondering
if you shouldn't delve a little deeper.

You had another you wanted to read?


- Yeah.
- Okay.

Look, I know it seems silly,
but the no-phone rule is for a very good...

Justin Foley?

Shut up. Are...?

Hang on.

Holy shit.

- He's your forbidden fruit?
- No, he's not.

- We just text sometimes.
- Oh, you text?

And talk on the phone a little.

- Since when?
- I don't know.

He texted me that day saying he was sorry,

and then, again, the next day.
Eventually, I stopped ignoring him.

And it felt good to know that things
didn't end up the way

- that people think they did.
- What...?

- You just told me to delve deeper.
- Not into him.

- You said yourself he ruined you.
- I know.

- I know, I just...
- Okay. I get it.

He makes all our panties drop.

Wait, you think Justin's hot?

Of course I do. I'm not blind,
or, like, chemically castrated.

You said, and I'm quoting,

that he was "the exemplar
of athleticus douchebaggerus."

Which only makes him hotter.

- I know, right? How is that even fair?
- All right, enough.

You put your hand on the hot stove.
Owie! You've learned your lesson.

- Yes?
- Yes.

You are going to delete him
from your phone...

- Ugh.
- ...and cleanse him from your heart.

Well, we should probably skip
my next three poems.


"It was the smile that did it first.

The way it seemed so easy for you
to be so happy.

That smile I wish I'd never seen."

Stop it.

And do you know
who this poem is about, Ryan?

- Objection. Hearsay.
- Declarant unavailable, Your Honor.

- I'll allow it.
- And who is this poem about, Ryan?

I don't know.


Ryan, why don't you read
another poem for us?

Fucking Ryan Shaver.

Every single kid who's gone to court
has completely skated.

No one has admitted what they did.
It's just me. I'm the only one.

- Yeah, that Ryan's a fucking tool.
- Worst kind of gay.

I mean, I didn't mean that
because he's gay.

Oh, I did.

He's fucking shallow and pretentious,
and he fucking dresses gay every day.

Classic homo.

Chad's also gay, FYI.

Hence, he can say shit
the rest of us can't.

And if you ever want to fuck with him,

there's an app for that.

I raised you three rectangular ones.

If I win, we get to go outside.

- No.
- Come on, just for a walk.

No. I'm sorry.

You heard the bossman.

Besides, you got people looking for you
on both sides of the law.

Since when is Tony Padilla
afraid of shit like that?

Holy shit.

You are scared.


My brothers and I, we beat this guy up.

He ended up pressing charges
a few weeks later.

That was my second strike,
now I'm on probation.

If I get seen with you, we get busted,

that means number three,
that means I do time.


What the fuck happened to you?

- You don't gotta tell me.
- No, no, no. It's...

It's cool. It's...

I just basically blew through
most of my money

the first few weeks I was out,

living in, like, motels and shit.

Yeah, oxy was like
taking the edge off, but...

all these pills are so pricey, and...

heroin's cheap.

So you know, here I am.

Shitting myself in Clay Jensen's bathroom.

Put your fucking shoes on.

So your parents weren't pissed
about yesterday?

No. They were disappointed.

Oh, disappointed. I hate that shit.

Plus, they want me to go to group therapy,
talk to someone.

- You can always talk to me.
- That's what I said.

Yeah, I won't, um, try to kiss you
every time or anything.


About that, I, uh...

No, I mean, we don't have to...

We don't have to be about that,
you know, ever again, so...



I listened to the tapes.

Clay finally gave them to me.


Are you...

- Are you okay?
- Yeah.

Are you?

You never told me
the whole story about Bryce.

If I wanted to talk about that,
I'd go to stupid group therapy.


Yeah, I get it.

I don't even know the whole story myself.

- I don't remember all of it.
- Yeah, me neither.

Here we go.

I think I saw one of those
chalk machine things in here somewhere.

Which would mean?

The pictures were taken at school.


It would be huge for your case.


And holy shit, there it is.

We gotta find that room.

"Do I put that target on my back
again and again?

Or do I face a lifetime
of wanting the thing I should not have?"

You've read three poems now,
so I'll ask you again,

who were these poems about?

Objection. Asked and answered.

- Your Honor?
- I'll allow it.

Who's the poem about, Ryan?

Justin Foley.

So, after Justin Foley, in her own words,

"ruined her and destroyed her reputation,"

she maintained contact with him?


- And kept writing poetry about him?
- Yes.

Nearly a half-dozen poems.
Any further mention of depression

or cries for help?


And to your knowledge,

did she maintain personal contact
with Justin Foley?


I don't know.

Uh... hey.

You texted me you were here.

Never thinking you would, like,
come visit.

Yeah, well...

Did you just feel like a latte?

Actually, do you think
they have Gatorade here?

I'm guessing no.

Yeah, I've actually never been in here.

Well, neither have any of your friends,
so it's safe.

That's not...

I just...

We haven't really talked
in a while, so I...

I thought maybe I wanted to see you,
that's all.

Well, you see me at school.

Yeah, but you know how that is.

I don't, really. How is it?

Look, I don't fucking like it, either.

But once you get tagged at Liberty,
that's what you've got.

Your tag seems a little easier
to live with than mine.

Look, I said I was sorry.

I've been saying it for months.

- Texting it, mostly.
- Well...

I am.

Sorry I'm late.

- Why, hello, Justin.
- Uh, hey, hey. Wha...

What's up?

Yeah, we were just finishing up
some homework stuff, so...

- Yeah, I'll see you at school.
- Sure. Talk to you at school.

Look, he just showed up.

- Hmm.
- I didn't ask him to.

I know.

- Okay, I know. Leave me alone.
- Cleanse him, Hannah, cleanse.


I mean, she wrote about longing,
about love and the lack of love.

Why didn't you publish any of those poems?

Because they weren't any good.

Ryan, be honest.

You published the poem you did
not because it was her truth,

but because you thought
it would shock the most, didn't you?


She wasn't happy.
She was extremely upset and hurting.

She wrote about Justin and...
and other boys because she was lonely.

It's not about them,
it's about what they represented.

What they did to her
and what you're doing right...

No further questions, Your Honor.
Thank you, Ryan.

Redirect, Your Honor?

Ryan, why do you think Hannah
continued texting with Justin?

Justin Foley was a bad decision.

And we all make bad decisions.

Especially when we're desperately alone.

- Yeah, I think we should head back now.
- No.

It's so nice out.

Some fresh air, some vitamin D.

- Yeah.
- Some... some...

- Oh, shit.
- Oh, come on.


- Sorry.
- Jesus Christ, man.

Don't fucking talk to people.

I was just apologizing
to the purple tracksuit lady. It's...


I don't get
this whole secret agent routine.

Oh, really, you don't get

that there are some people
who might not be happy to have you back?

Jessica wants me back.

That's all that fucking matters.

Yeah. Yeah.

- Right? That's what she said, right?
- I didn't talk to her, Clay did.

He said she wants me here.

I don't think...

I don't think it's that simple.

- I think she...
- What? What is it?

Does that car look familiar?

- Whose is it?
- I don't know. Obviously,

they go to our school.
So you got your wish.

Everybody's gonna know you're back.

- I'm glad you came.
- Me, too.

- That was a lot to take.
- Oh, today was a good day.

It can get much worse, believe me.

I believe you.

See you tomorrow.

It's nice seeing you two together.

- Nice for the jury, too, right?
- That's not what I'm thinking.

- Well, I am.
- Okay, I understand.

I'm worried about you, though.

It's easy to fall into old patterns,

to rely on someone
who has proven unreliable.

Don't worry.

I've moved on.

A lot of us keep holding on
even when we should let go.

- Shit.
- Floors don't match.

No couch.

Damn it.

There has to be
some athletics room somewhere.

Maybe Justin could help.

You would say that.

What does that mean?

- How are you so quick to forgive him?
- I didn't say I forgave him.

Why do girls even like guys like Justin?
I mean, why did you?

He's always been an asshole.
His best friend is a rapist.

I didn't know that then.

You were warned.

- Kat warned you.
- Oh, so it's my fault?

- I'm not saying that.
- What are you saying, then?

I just...

I don't understand why people love people
who aren't good for them.

I don't know what to tell you.

We don't choose who we fall for.


Tell me about it.

You sure it was Justin?

That's what I heard.

Why would he be with Tony?
Think he came back to testify?

- Fuck if I know, or care.
- All right, listen up.

State guy's coming down tomorrow
to do the screens.

So if that is a concern for you,

see me in my office.


You all set for tomorrow? For court?
You want me to come with you?

That's all right, Coach. But thanks.

Think that's why he came back?

I don't know. Drop it.

Go. Everything's fine.

Yeah, you keep saying that.

You tell me you've got shit
taken care of, but I don't see it.

And why the fuck do you care, exactly?

You, man. Us. State.

All taken care of.

Go. Get your synthetic pee.

Zachy, you coming?

No, I'm good, brother. Don't need it.

Not gonna tell on us, are you?

Why, you think I'm a rat?

No, of course not.
I just wish I had your genes, man.

You did all right.

You flatter me.

Got your back, brother.

- Thanks, buddy.
- Yeah.

Thanks, ladies.

I'm probably overthinking it,

but not every girl
gets to meet the parents, right?

- True. Later, girl.
- Bye.

Hey, Jess.

- Great work today.
- Thanks.

Sorry we had to end early.

I have to go home and change
for dinner with Bryce's parents.

- I have no idea what I'm gonna wear.
- Yeah.

I'm sure you could wear anything, Chlöe,
and they'll still love you.

Hey, Jess.

We'll find you a man, okay?
You just have to let me help you.

I mean it.
I kinda pride myself on my matchmaking...

Look, Chlöe,
I don't want a fucking boyfriend.


The last thing I need in my life right now
is some fucking guy.

And you, the fact that you keep,
like, offering that...

means you're just as fucking clueless
as I thought.

I was trying
to be Hannah's friend.

I needed a friend as much as she did.

Um. Hi.


I, um...

I was friends with Hannah,
and I let her down, and I'm sorry.

I just wanted to come by and say
what they're doing to her is bullshit.

Thank you.

Can I...?

Can I ask you some questions
about Hannah's journals?

Oh, um...

Yes, of course.

She mentions "the clubhouse"
in three different poems.

"Something changed after the clubhouse.

I imagined myself for a moment
one of the elite,

but I never should have gone
to the clubhouse."

"...in his lucky letter jacket."

- That's gotta be Justin, right?
- It could be.

I don't know.

I don't remember anything
about a clubhouse.

Damn it.

Okay. What about "the intruder"?

He comes up several times, too.
There's a whole poem about him.

"Sometimes the intruder
doesn't need to break a window.

Sometimes they already have the key."

Do you know this one?


I think it's about the bullying
at the school.

The house is on fire,

her lungs are filling up with smoke,

and the intruder,

it's this other Hannah
that everyone thought they knew.

Oh, no, that makes sense.

It's fucking useless, Ryan.

We write and write about shit,
and nothing ever changes. I'm done.

Hannah, you have a gift.
Not gonna let you throw that away.

A gift?

- You say that so easily like you know.
- I do.

Yeah, well, I wish I did.

I wish I didn't need people
to tell me I'm good,

or that they like me, but I do.

That... That's great stuff.
That's what you should write about.


Enough writing about my emotions.
Can we just eat them?

Yeah, we can totally eat them.

Vanilla or mint chocolate chip?

Please. Vanilla is not a flavor.
It's an admission of defeat.

Hannah was so talented,
but she didn't know it.

She wrote out of love, out of need.

And I wanted to show her
that the rush of people loving your work

is just as good as love.

It was just one poem.

But I was wrong.

I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.

Sometimes I fantasize that all the answers
are in these torn-out pages.

Oh, I... I don't think so, I...

I imagine those are just
false starts or...

things she was ashamed
to even admit to herself.

Why did she keep in contact with Justin?


It can be intense at our age.

It's not just at your age.

What she needed most was love.

Human connection.

You didn't quit cheerleading
because Justin's back?

I know, news travels fast in these halls.

Don't care.

- You don't care that he's back?
- No.

Know where he's staying?

Justin needs help, too.

He should be enrolled in school.

The only address I have of him
is his dad in Sacramento.

Oh, well.

Jess, I'll be honest.

I know what it's like to try to be strong

and keep your problems all to you.

But it does not work.

You don't have to talk to me.

But talk to someone.

If I don't have to talk to you, can I go?

Justin's never met his dad.

His mom lives with some drug dealer
named Seth.

- Do you think she likes her?
- Your mother?

- Yeah.
- Uh, sure.

Chlöe's a great girl. Very pretty.

Yeah, she's got a brain, too.
Her grades are better than mine.

And she's loyal?


That's important.

- You did good.
- Thanks, Dad.

Here we go.


You seem quite happy, the two of you.

Oh, yeah, absolutely.
He's so sweet to me, like, all the time.

- Sweet?
- Yeah.

That's good to hear.

Oh. Cheerleading. Full-contact sport.

I see.

How do you know about Justin?

Because Jessica told me
when we ditched with your car yesterday.

Said that Clay went and found him.

- Clay?
- Yeah.

Okay, do you know anything about
where he's living or why he's back?

No, Zach, and I really don't fucking care.

Why is everything always
about fucking Justin?

Whoa. Relax, dude. It's not.

- Hey, are you okay?
- Yeah.

Jessica and I kissed yesterday.


Dude, that's... that's great.

Is that great?

Yeah, well,
but then she freaked out on me.

And now it's just...
It's totally weird. I...

Yeah, that makes sense
that she would freak out.

Yeah. But I just... I still think
it has something to do with Justin.

And you know what's the most fucked up?

When we kissed,
I couldn't even feel anything.

- You mean, like, emotionally, or...?
- No, like, down there.

I was just numb.

I haven't really felt anything,
like, post-coma.

- Have you tried porn?
- Yeah, of course I've tried porn.

But I thought with a real person,
maybe it would, you know.

Yeah. Well, dude, honestly, it'll happen.
You just gotta find the right girl.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

All right, well, let me know
when you find yours.

Maybe she's got a friend
who's into scrawny and broken.

Well, not broken forever.

Let's go. Come on.

I'm sorry, Sheri.

He went to the movies with his dad.

- He must have forgotten to text you.
- Yeah, he must have.

I'm happy that you two are friends again.
I know you've been through a great deal.

Yeah, we have.

I think Clay's still working
on trying to forgive me.

- Well, if he asked you to come study...
- Yeah.

Actually, why don't you stay?
Wait for him.


Can I ask you a question
for a case that I'm working on?

Let's say a boy and a girl, uh,
have been texting a lot,

and then all of a sudden, it stops,
what would that mean?

Well, they were probably dating, right?
Then they broke up.

What if they never dated?

Oh. That's probably just a hookup.

Hannah was desperate
for human connection,

and I betrayed her.

I guess I left her even more lonely
than she was before.

And I guess I know how she feels.

How'd it go today?

Um. Not great, actually.

You're fine.
I didn't say anything, if you're worried.

I wasn't. I... just wanted to know
how you were doing.

Are you here alone?

- You wanna join us?
- "Us"?

Caleb, Ryan. Ryan, Caleb.

- Nice to meet you.
- Nice...

handshake, wow.

Sure you don't wanna join us?

Yeah, actually, no, I was just leaving.
I got stood up.

Apparently, my date joined the app today.
He's a noob, so you know. Just...


Forget him. Stay.
Plus I want some dirt on Mr. Perfect here.

- Oh, he knows about our past, that's...
- Barely any of it.

You're not interested
in high school bullshit.

If it's about you, I am.

Come on, Ryan. Seriously. Stay.

What Hannah needed was a friend,
and I wasn't that.

For the longest time,
nothing was the same.

How long I slept, what I ate, what I wore.

I mean, my clothes
didn't feel like me anymore.

Bright colors made me feel like a fraud

and my black clothes
didn't seem dark enough, and...

Just nothing seemed to fit.
Just literally everything felt like a lie.

And nothing I did seemed to help.
No drink, no drug.

Well, I didn't actually try every drug,

but let me tell you, weed just had me
crying and all in my feelings.

You know, but the one thing
that did seem to help was all of you.

And I'm thankful today that just...

coming here and talking to you

has been the thing
that's brought me back to who I am.

You know, a loud, pushy, pain in the ass.

But you know you love me, and I love you.

Thank you.

Took you long enough.

How did you know?

About me.

Um, I didn't.

I just figured in case
those rumors were bullshit,

which they obviously were,
that I'd be a friendly face.

Friendly and slightly stalkerish?

I don't stalk. I lurk.

- Oh, okay.
- And it worked, didn't it?



Turn it down.

- What?
- Turn the music down.

Hey, sorry, what?

That's, um...

some music.

- It's punk.
- Oh.

They sound angry.

- They are.
- Oh.

Okay. Uh...

What are they so angry about?


- I see.
- Yeah.

Mr. Barbour called today.
From up the street.

He said he saw you and your friend, Cyrus,
shooting guns on his property.

What? Shooting guns?

That wasn't me. I don't know, I...

- That old guy's crazy, I guess.
- No.

He said it was you. That's why
he called me and not the police.

Oh, wait, does he mean...
does he mean Cyrus' BB gun?

- Is that what he's talking about?
- A BB gun?

It's like this old thing Cyrus has.
It's like a toy.

You know, it's not real.

- Maybe that's what he saw.
- Oh. Okay.


Still, you know how I feel
about guns of any kind.

Yeah. No, I do, I do.
And I even... I told Cyrus that.

Which is why we went to
Mr. Barbour's field to be extra careful.

And did Cyrus give you that music?

And that shirt?

We made the shirts ourselves, you know.

They're quite bold.

I hope you save them
for the appropriate audience,

and not school.

- Yeah.
- Mm-hmm.



- Don't stay up too late.
- I won't.

- G'night. Love you.
- Good night.

Hey, there.


I think there's something wrong
with your camera.

Oh, yeah, it's broken, so...

What's your name, cutie?


My name is Zach.

Well, hi, Zach.

If I can't see you,
how will I know how big and hard you are?


Well, I could describe myself.

Yeah, I'm 6'3".

I'm jacked 'cause I work out a lot.

Sounds like a hot bod.

You like this?

- Yeah, I do like that.
- Mm-hmm.

- Yeah, that's good.
- Oh. Oh, yeah.


Oh, God.

Fuck! God damn it.

What's wrong? You don't like?

No. I mean, yes, I do, I...

No, I do like it.
It's not you, it's me. I just...

I don't work.

And I'm not...

I'm not 6'3", I'm not jacked, I'm...

I'm really skinny and funny-looking,
and my dick's broken.

Okay. Um...

Honey, how old are you?

- Twenty-five.
- Uh-huh.

Look, it's 18 or older.

Sorry, kiddo.

I'm sorry. I didn't get your text message.

The procedure is if you see the car,
you go through the window.

Your whole family has the same car.

- I thought it was you.
- Mine is smaller.

Okay, anyways,

I made an excuse to go to your room
and use your bathroom,

so that Tony could leave,
and Justin's been asleep ever since.

Well, at least he didn't get discovered.

Yeah, um, about that...

When were you gonna tell me
someone saw you?

When were you gonna tell me about Jess?

I talked to Tony.

- She doesn't want me here, does she?
- It's complicated.

- You lied to me.
- No, I... It's the truth.

Jessica just... doesn't realize it yet.

She'll change her mind.

You have to get sober, and she'll see.

Fuck that.

I'm wasting my time.

She kept your postcard.

It's how we found you.

She kept it, Justin.

"Nancy, I'll always love you. Sid."

Why would she keep that?

I really did love her.

So, stay.

Do you wanna know why
Hannah wrote these poems?

She was reaching out.

She was desperate to be heard,
to connect.

And people took that lifeline
and they twisted it.

Hey, kiddo.

- You okay?
- Yeah.

Uh, I was...

I was thinking
maybe I'd try to sleep in here tonight.


- That's wonderful.
- Yeah, well, it's fine.

Do you want me to tuck you in,
or is that silly?


They took her own story
away from her.

And she fought to get it back.

- Who are you?
- Kevin Porter.

Guidance counselor at Liberty High.

I'm looking for your son.

Look, what can I tell you? He ran away.

You don't wanna know how he's doing,
or is he alive, or...?

He can take care of himself, okay?
Always has.

Ma'am, he's 17 years old.

Who the fuck are you?

I'm Justin's guidance counselor,
Kevin Porter. And you are?

I'm the one that punk
stole a thousand dollars from.

So you gonna get me my money back?

Well, I'm not really here for that.

Then I suggest
you get the fuck off my property.

Listen. Justin, he needs a home.

Well, he had a home, and he fucked it up.
Case closed.

- Goodbye.
- Okay, I wish you would back off.

- Or what?
- Don't do that, man.

You gonna give me detention, huh?

Ah! Come on!

But in the end,

the story they told was so loud
that it's all that she could hear...

and she started to believe it
and forgot who she was.


It's easy to let that happen,
to lose yourself.

To believe that no one
could ever know you,

or love you.

And that you're the only person
that knows what you're going through.

And you convince yourself
it's going to get better.

And then, it doesn't.

For help finding crisis resources,

visit 13reasonswhy.info.

Well done, Ed. Well done.