Spencer Hastings could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been rendered speechless.

Her mind was always working, always thinking and figuring things out, even when she was asleep. Her sister slapping her after finding out about the mistake that was Wren did not phase her. Her mother's disappointed stare didn't stop a witty comment. Finding out about her father's affair simply made her crave more answers about Alison.

She could always come up with something scathing to say, a dry comment that turned the situation around.

Not this time.

Seeing the shadowy figure lurk in the doorway, rifling through her drawers, didn't scare her like it usually would. This time, it repulsed her. She felt sick just thinking about his hands inside those infamous black gloves, scrabbling for the key that she turned in her fingers, gripping so tightly that it cut her. Flashes of bright lightning illuminated her kitchen, and she held up the key that he wanted so badly, that he would give everything - all the kisses, the secrets, the trust - that they'd shared together up for.

Her voice wavered. "Looking for something?"

That was when he turned, and her stomach did somersaults in surprise because even though she knew - how could she not? - the thought of him betraying her so easily, so callously, tore her apart.

She wasn't surprised when he fled quickly after, not bothering to explain the words that she didn't want to hear, that she didn't even want to think about.

What happened after is blurry for her, as the air around her seemed to dissipate into nothingness, and there was no air in her lungs for her to breathe. Instead, she gasped for air, craving that almost as much as she craved his once gentle touch. Nothing, ever, had even come close to the devastation that hit her. Some people describe devastation as a wave, that washes over you. Well, this was a tsunami, and she was drowning in her own sorrow and tears, preferring to drown rather than swimming without her life jacket.

Hours later, she sat on the steps outside of his apartment, calling out to him pathetically through the door, her heart aching with all the pain he had caused her.

Yes, Spencer Hastings always had something to say, always could control every situation.

But crying outside of his door because he was the one hurting her and her friends?

Maybe it was because her family had never failed to let her down.

Maybe it was because she truly thought that he was her safe place to land.

All she knew was that she'd never want to fly again.