Summary: Emily writes a letter to Maya after her death. Takes place after 3x12, "What Lies Beneath" One-shot.

Disclaimer: Don't own. All characters belong to the producers of the show, and Sara Shephard, of course.

Dear Maya,

Hey. It's me, Emily. It's been about a week since I figured out who killed you. Nate-sorry, Lyndon-seemed like a nice guy at first, and maybe that's what drew you into him. I found out he was the one stalking you. You mentioned him before, but made it sound like no big deal. You convinced me you weren't scared. But you didn't need to be strong for me, Maya. I had someone stalking me, too, and I figured out who it was the night they found your body. Turns out it was Mona Vanderwaal, but she's locked up in Radley now. She was actually stalking the four of us, which is the real reason why I rekindled my old friendship with the girls, not the reason I told you.

It's been so weird ever since you left. Everyone offers their condolences, and it's nice knowing that they care, but I'm tired of being pitied and looking at as 'that poor girl whose girlfriend was killed.' My friends have all been here for me. They really miss you, too.

Hanna felt so guilty afterward, like your murder was all her fault. She kept blaming it on herself, and this might sound insane, but I can see why. 'A'- that's what Mona kept calling herself as our stalker-kept threatening to hurt everyone close to us. She thought she had done something wrong, which, consequently, had gotten you killed. Actually, we all thought that for a long time. But Hanna was the one who felt the most guilty.

Aria never mentioned you. Not around me, at least. I guess she thought I was made out of glass or something, because she was extra careful to not bring it up. At first, I appreciated it, but then it got really old. But it turns out she wrote a bunch of beautiful poems about you, and at the end of the summer, she let me read one. I had cried so hard after that, because it really was beautiful, just like you.

Spencer went all CSI. We thought that after we caught Mona, she could finally relax her brain, but the girl just always has to be solving a mystery. At first she thought Mona killed you, but she changed that theory pretty quickly. She tried to pretend she wasn't doing it and letting the cops handle it for me, but the truth came out pretty soon.

I know I'll never forget you, Maya, but I've started dating again. You'd want me to. Her name's Paige. You might know her. She's really pretty, and a swimmer like me. You'd like her. I've never been happier ever since you left. I thought it was time to move on.

They say you never forget your first love. I always thought that was true, but now I know I won't. Even though I'm on the way to find happiness, I wish things had ended differently. I try not remembering how you left me; to remember you, in general. Your face, your smile, your love, everything. I wish that's what people would remember about you, but all they remember is that you were the girl who was murdered. And it really sucks.

Even though I'm with Paige and I'm happy with her, I still love you. I always will.

Love,

Emily

She digs a tiny hole, right next to the grave under the tree with the pink flowers. Maya's favorite color, she thinks, tracing the gray marble stone. Maya St. Germain, it says, Rest in Peace. A tear slides down her cheek. Each time, she swears it'll be the last one. The last one she'll ever let go for her. But she realized a long time ago that all the tears in the world wouldn't make her forget. She places the letter in the hole, then pats dirt on top.

"I love you, Maya," she whispers, gently plucking a pink flower from the tree and placing it on the stone. She slowly gets up and starts to walk away, but not before glancing back to her old lover, placed in the earth before she should have been. Body in the ground, soul in the heavens. Free from pain or harm. For a moment, she envies the happiness that comes with the aftermath of death. She wants to forget, but she can't. She knows she has to leave Rosewood in the future, but until then, she'll come here every day to place another pink flower on the tombstone, until there are none left.

I don't usually write anything this depressing, but I've been wanting to write this for a long time. Review pls. Thx :)