"Ms. Montgomery, are you listening?"

Aria glanced up at the aged face of her therapist. His smile made his blue eyes light up like a Summer sky and the corners crinkle like old newspaper. She wasn't sure if it was reassuring or creepy. There was something about his goatee, how does one get their facial hair that flat?

Her parents, sat with fidgeting hands either side of her, were also smiling. That, she decided, was creepier of his smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"I wanted to let you know before I made it official. From Monday, you will no longer be a full-time patient of Landspitali University Hospital."

It took her a moment to register what he was saying, his accent made it sound soft, and like a question. "Excuse me?"

"In my professional opinion, you no longer require full time care from us. I'm recommending your discharge."

"That's… that's…"

"Fantastic news!" Ella grinned. Her wide smile showed every tooth. She glanced at her daughter, and her smile faltered. "Isn't it, honey?"

Aria swallowed heavily. "Yeah… I mean yeah," with effort she forced her muscles to pull her lips into a smile. "Fantastic."

Dr. Einarsson took a form from the inside cover of Aria's folder and handed it across his desk. "Wonderful, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery – if you will just sign here I can begin the paperwork immediately."

Their pens flew across the page as though they had minds of their own. Her parents were so happy, shouldn't she be happy too? A year of appointments at a mental institution miles from her home was not considered something that a fifteen-year-old girl would aspire to – and now it was over. It just… it didn't feel over.

She remembered the overheard conversation that had landed them here in the first place. Her parents, hushed behind closed doors, worried for the way their daughter had retreated from them. Whispers about Allison… Allison… and the girls who had been the last to see her alive. Her mother thought that that was all it was. Greif and the stress of losing a friend. Her father… his eyes still swam in guilt, knowing he might have contributed to his daughter's breakdown.

It was him who had suggested Iceland. Something about a specialist. A way to get away from Rosewood. A way to get away from Meredith.

"… that is if you planned to return to Rosewood."

Aria's attention snapped back to the present. "What?"

Bryon's brow furrowed. "We can go home, if you like?"

"I'll be sending your file to the Radley Sanatorium, they will be continuing with your outpatient treatment. I feel the best thing for you now will be a return to normality," the therapist said, slowly.

Normal. What the hell was that?

Hanna Merin handed over ten dollars to the cashier and gave him a large and friendly smile. He was cute. A winning blonde hair cut and brown eyes that resembled swirling pools of chocolate. He barely took a second look, though, instead he pushed the box of cupcakes towards her and grunted something about having a nice day at her. Her smile faltered.

She wasn't even half way home when her hand pulled the last of the four cupcakes from the box. Before it touched her lips, she stopped. Four cupcakes in less than twenty minutes. Her hand trembled and the cupcake fell to the ground, blue icing turned gritty in a matter of seconds. Hanna swallowed thickly and stepped over the mess before her brain could convince her to pick it up. What is wrong with me?

For the rest of the walk home she kept her hands buried deep in her pockets and her eyes cast down at the pavement. It didn't take long for her to reach her front door. With one hand hovering over the door handle she heard it. The yelling.

"Christ Ashley, I was at work!"

"Were you though? I called your office Tom, they had no idea where you were!"

A pause and then. "I was at a client's house."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter? I'm so sick of this."

A door slammed. The sounds of a woman stifling sobs.

Hanna sucked in a large breath before pushing the door. She plastered a smile on her face. "Mom! Are you home?"

She heard her mom jump around the kitchen. Perhaps dabbing at her make up in the mirror, swiping the tears from her face, straightening her clothes and coughing the edge from her voice. She allowed enough time for this before walking in. Hanna wouldn't want anyone walking in on her crying, and neither would her mother.

"Hi darling," she said, voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat. "How… how was school?"

"It's getting better," Hanna said. "No-one stares anymore."

Ashley forced a smile. "That's great! What do you want for Dinner? There's a new Chinese place in town. We could go there?"

The cupcakes sat heavily in Hanna's stomach. Nausea rose in her chest and yet her mouth watered at the thought. She shook her head. "Yeah sure…. Where's Dad?"

This caused a twitch on Ashley's face. Hanna pretended not to notice. "At work," she said, far too quickly. "It'll just be us girls."

After dinner Hanna excused herself to her room. The food felt like a rock in her stomach. She leant against her door, blinking tears from her eyes. The waist of her jeans cut into her hips like metal handcuffs. Allison's words became the only thing she could think about. Spinning around, faster and faster in her mind until before she could even stop herself she was leaning over the toilet in the bathroom, and the contents of her stomach became the contents of the porcelain bowl.

That's it Han, it said, make it all go away.

She fell backwards onto the tile floor. Her eyes watered and her throat burned. Her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer. Every beat was hard enough to bruise.

At the edge of her hearing she heard the front door open and the heavy footfalls of her father enter. He came up the stairs and past the bathroom without looking inside. It wouldn't have been hard to see her, she hadn't locked the door, he could have seen. Could have helped.

When he walked back he was carrying a suitcase.

"Tom?"

"…Ashley, I thought… weren't you supposed to have a business dinner?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

When the door shut behind him it sounded like an explosion.

Spencer paced back and forth across the living room floor. She muttered her speech under her breath, practising every angle her parents could possibly throw at her. She was so involved in her thoughts that she didn't even hear them returning, and practically jumped out of her skin when she turned and found them watching her from the kitchen.

Her mother was speaking so rapidly into her phone that Spencer could barely even understand her. Peter, however, was watching his daughter carefully, tracking her movements with an uneasy precision. Ever since that thing her parents were always watching her.

"Spencer," her dad nodded.

"Dad," she replied, swallowing heavily. Before she could change her mind, she forced out the next words. "I'm glad you came home together. Actually, I wanted to ask…"

Veronica waved a hand dismissively and Spencer's mouth snapped shut. Frustration flared in her mind and her hands balled themselves into fists by her sides. With white knuckles she made herself smile, made herself relax the muscles in her neck, made herself wait while her mother finished her phone call.

Thirty-five minutes later she was half way through her third coffee when her mother hung up the phone.

"How was school?" she said, almost as an afterthought as she pulled two waters from the fridge. The second of the two she passed to Peter.

"Did you get on the AP Latin class?"

Spencer nodded. "I did, that's what I wanted to talk to you about actually."

Her father waved the bottle in a 'go on' motion before opening it and taking a long swig. His wife laid a hand on his shoulder and focused her attention too. It made her skin crawl.

"I was wondering… well I just thought… I thought it could be cool if…" fuck, get it together Spence. The next sentence fell out of her mouth. "Can I move into the loft outside?"

Like mirror images her parents furrowed their brows and tilted their heads. Veronica set her water bottle down on the table and pulled her perfectly styled brown hair behind her ears. The silence spanned just long enough to break Spencer's nerve, but before she could open her mouth to take back her request her father nodded.

"Sure Spence," he said. Her heart dropped into her feet. That worked? "The chance to mature could be good – provided you have a 4.0 in all your classes. Oh, and there's an internship at the firm, isn't there? Next Summer."

Oh.

"I'm sure we could get Ann to take you on," Veronica added. "Melissa did something like that didn't she?"

"Captain of the Field Hockey team," Peter corrected.

Of course.

"Okay Spence," he said. "We can revisit this at the end of next semester," he glanced at his watch. "I've got to go."

In the next moment, he'd kissed his wife on the cheek and left. The weak smile on Spencer's face was beginning to make her cheeks ache. In the back of her mind she was painfully aware of the three assignments that were due next week. One of the require that she read a whole book in the next four days. Maybe if she could convince Mrs. Goodfell to postpone her test on Tuesday she could get the last few hundred words done for that Science essay… or studying could wait until tomorrow morning. If she got up an hour earlier she could spend some time in the library before school.

She didn't even notice her mother leaving until she spoke. "You made those try-outs for Hockey the other day, right?"

But she was gone before Spencer could answer.

The try-outs. How could she forget? Of course, she'd made it. Run all the way there after handing in the extra credit for Maths. Practise started that next week. When would she find time for studying for that test now?

Her head began to throb.

She stumbled upstairs to her room. Panic began to rise in her chest and she had to get away before it could take over. Every breath felt like burning in her lungs. She couldn't speak. Couldn't see.

Spencer half walked, half fell to her bed and knelt to the floor. In short, jerky movements she dug a locked box out from beneath the frame and cradled it in her lap. The keys for in were buried in her drawer. She didn't remember opening it but the next minute she was staring at the remnants of that thing.

Sat in the bottom was a bottle of pills.

SPENCER JILL HASTINGS

ADDERALL (AMPHETAMINE)

1 DOSE 1 OR 2 TIMES DAILY

She stared at it for what seemed like an age before a shaky hand reached forward and pale fingers curled themselves around the orange bottle. There were only six pills left. Not many. Could she get more? They wouldn't be prescribed to her anymore.

At first, she only took one. After a brief pause, a second soon followed.

They hadn't even hit her stomach before she had pulled out her books.

When her eyes next caught sight of the clock it was seven hours later and four o'clock in the morning. Amazingly she wasn't even starting to feel tired. Two completed essays sat at the foot of her bed and she was already most of the way through the third.

Everything was going to be fine.

Just as Emily was about to pull the door of her locker open, a hand shot passed her shoulder and pushed it closed. She knew who it belonged to without turning around. Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Slowly she turned. There wasn't much further that she could move – her personal space severely restricted by the looming body of Ben Coogan.

"Emily Fields," he drawled. "Looking mighty fine today."

"Thanks."

His eyes scoured her body. Every inch of her skin crawled at the feeling of his breath on her face. Nothing about him was attractive. Not his hard and unforgiving body. Not his swampy, dark eyes. Not his slimy smile or his smile that doesn't reach his eyes or his greasy, full-of-product hair.

Allison had been so different. So, soft and warm. Nothing coming even close to the itchy way his attention made her feel.

Don't think about Allison.

"So, what do you say?"

"What? I mean, sure."

"Great," he said. "I'll pick you up at seven."

He'd gone before she could ask what he was picking her up for. All she knew what that there was a great feeling of dread in her stomach. She hugged her textbooks tightly to her chest and forced herself to breathe.