A/N: idk um... I might delete off of here, but thought I'd share because why not I guess? Leave a review if you wanna see me smile? Yeah?
There are some things that have been said that can never be unheard; some things that have been chained to your consciousness. These things have engulfed themselves into your memories, making it impossible to forget these little pieces of dialogue, or concrete actions that rest in your cerebellum—the part of your brain that works for keeping a memory known. This is a blessing and a curse.
There are so many things that she never wants to forget—her preschool graduation, the first time she met Hanna, Emily and Aria, when Toby professed his love for her the first time—but there is also a boat load of bad moments to go along with good. A lot of those moments involve Alison, and through that, humiliation and self loathing. Alison always had this thing about her—this way about her that made you question everything you did, and if she would think it was cool. She made you want to impress her. She made you want to be someone Ali would be proud to call a friend. Because Alison's compliments? They were like discovering waterfalls in the middle of a desert. They were rare, but genuine when they came about. It made you feel like you accomplished something. Like, you were up to her standard—her high, outrageous standard. You were worthy of a compliment from Alison DiLaurentis.
Then there were her insults.
There were always elusive, crude, insensitive comments hiding between her words. She said every sentence as if she were demeaning you. She made you feel horrible without even needing to put forth any straight forward cruelty. But when she did use actual insults—when she didn't hide between cryptic, indirect haggling, she could make you feel like you were the most awful human being on the planet.
They were twelve. Spencer was having Alison over for a Hastings Family Dinner, which didn't occur very often. Her parents were always too busy to have family meals. They all got home at different times—their schedules were too conflicting. It was easier to eat alone. But every now and then, they would all miraculously be home at the same time, and eat dinner together.
Alison and Spencer had been fighting all week. For a while, Alison had been ignoring Spencer, pretending she didn't exist. Not even offering a glance when she spoke up at the lunch table. Alison did this a lot. She isolated you. She made you the enemy of everyone when you were fighting. She made sure that you would come to beg for forgiveness. She made it clear that if she was mad at you, everyone was. Aria, Emily, and Hanna shunned her out too. It was miserable, and all you could do was wait for Alison to accept your apology. It could go on for weeks—you begging for Ali to forgive you, and Ali just brushing you off like you're nothing. Then one day, she would just act like nothing ever happened—like the last couple weeks of pure misery and isolation didn't occur. Everything would be fine.
But this time, Spencer didn't apologize. She didn't beg for Ali's forgiveness. She didn't do anything.
Alison had been ignoring her all week for it, but then today, she had come over—acting like everything was great between them. Spencer gladly accepted this, and let her friend into her house. But the whole time she was there, she just made sly, creeping remarks about Spencer. She had found a way to punish her.
The whole time Alison had been at Spencer's house, she had been cleaning the gun, exchanging the bullets, and getting her target ready. At dinner, she finally took the shot.
"Spencer, I just don't think you could ever out-do Melissa." She had said in front of her whole family. She had this scrunched up, innocent look on her face, like a bunny rabbit almost, but her eyes were cold, pale, and unforgiving. "I mean, I know you try. But… she's just so perfect," the blonde had given a giddy smile at Spencer's sister.
It had left her whole family in a haze of discomfort. Even Melissa herself could not fathom the rude, cruel remark from the girl who was supposedly Spencer's best friend. She had just mumbled an awkward thanks before locking eyes with Spencer, looking almost apologetic. But it still was Melissa, so not quite.
Spencer had kept silent the rest of the dinner, her eyes downcast as Alison told her family about how she got the lead part in the school's play. Spencer had eventually excused herself, and cried in the bathroom. Her whole life had been a competition with Melissa. An endless game of high-low that she never was able to win. Her parents had made it clear that whoever received the most trophies got the most kisses and hugs; got the most love. She had been in a civil war with her sister all her life over whom the perfect daughter was. Alison knew it too. She knew Spencer's desperation to keep her parents proud. She knew that she was always trying to grasp Melissa's level of perfection, and she used it against her.
When she came out of the bathroom, her parents had announced that Alison had gone home. When she went back to school Monday, everything was once again peachy. Nothing happened.
It's always stayed with her. After that, her entire relationship with Melissa plummeted. She became obsessed with out staging Melissa. For awhile, it seemed like it was her prime reason of existence. Everything she did—every action she took, it went back to Alison's demeaning words. She had devoted her life to winning—to being the best in everything, and anything. Because of Alison, her life's importance had been dedicated by the amount of trophies she had, or the amount of AP classes she could get into. She had completely lost herself to the desire of being the best. Before Alison's comment, it was bad, but after, it had ruined her life.
And even now, it gets to her. She knows now that out staging Melissa is of no importance. She knows the amount of trophies and achievement awards she receives do not determine her level of worthiness. She knows winning isn't everything. She's learned that. She knows that now.
But having Alison around these last few weeks, it's a constant reminder of the remark. The person she was is trying to cease the person she is now. That award hungry beast that she had locked away is trying to claw and hammer its way out. Alison feeds on it, giving it muscle, giving it encouragement to come out. The things she says are discreet—like always. But they are there. They are apparent.
Spencer thought that she had overcome the power Alison had on her. She didn't think Alison had any control over her anymore. But apparently she still does.
And she is afraid that Alison will be able to break the chains, and set the beast free. She has been loosening them up for weeks. And with the comment she had delivered today… Spencer's afraid that the next time she lets her guard down—around anyone—it will slash through its cage, taking control of her, and pushing her down into the person she never wants to be again.
"Spencer," he says. Without even looking at him, she knows he's frowning. He had gone to go pick up take out from The Grille, and in the fifteen minutes he has been gone, she's managed to completely wreck her mind with dark, brooding thoughts.
She steps up off the couch and goes to take a bag from him, not meeting his eyes. They set the bags on the counter top, Toby's pale, blue eyes never leaving the grimace on her face.
"Spence—," he catches her hand before she can open the bag. She sucks in a breath. She knows she can't pretend to be okay in front of Toby. She doesn't know if it's just because of how well he knows her, or if it's just her. For some weird, unexplained reason, she is unable to keep a cool persona with Toby. Her mind doesn't let her barricade her emotions around him. It's like she's loses that ability around him. She can't hide how she feels. Her body won't allow it.
She pushes herself to meet his gaze; his warm, comforting, understanding gaze. Why is she so reluctant to just let him in? He's Toby. He's her Toby. He is on her side. He wouldn't think she is some foolish, over sensitive nut job. He's never made her feel ashamed over anything. He is always understanding. Always there for her, even if she is being irrational towards an issue, or over reactive.
His hand tilts a little, his fingers curling around hers. Now he is squeezing her hand, already making the dark, burdening broods in her mind perish. He swings their interlocked hands over the bag, and comes over to her.
"It's just—Alison," she confesses in a hollow, lifeless tone.
"What did she do?" he asks with a curiosity, his thumb running circles on her palm. He doesn't ask with accusation, with disdain, or any disgust. He just asks.
"It's—it's not even… it happened a long time ago, I just—" she sighs a little. "I don't think I've ever completely let it go."
He walks them over to the couch, holding her hand with a tight grip before taking a seat, and pulling her down with him. She plops down next to him, her thigh barely touching his. He puts a reassuring hand on her back, slightly rubbing it.
"What did she say?" he prompts. "A long time ago…"
She intensely stares into nothing for a moment, severely biting the inside of her lip before looking at Toby. "We were in some dumb argument, like always, and I thought Alison was over it, but she wasn't. She humiliated me in front of my whole entire family—she had said the words that I had always been afraid of hearing aloud."
"What was it?" he presses, his voice dripping with empathy and care.
"Spencer," she begins in a honeyed voice, intimating Alison and putting on a devilish, Alison-like smile. "I don't think you will ever be able to out-do Melissa. She's just so perfect."
Toby's blue eyes gape. He's heard Alison's crude remarks before, under his own name, and others, but this was completely crossing the line. This was where bullying meets toxic manipulation. "Spencer…"
"It always got to me…" her voice wobbles a little. "I could never look past it. It just…it always stayed with me. And I—I haven't thought about it in a long while, but now…she's back, and just a bunch of stuff is resurfacing," she sounds frustrated and breaking.
"She's wrong, Spencer," he cups her face in his hands, his deep blue eyes serious and steady. "Don't listen to her. Don't let her get inside your head. You know none of that stuff matters…"
A tear falls from the corner of her eye as he goes on.
"Those athletic trophies and scholar awards, and all the rest—they aren't what's important. Who you are—that's what's important. That's why people love you, Spence."
A grin arranges on her face, a little breath of joy and gratitude sighing from her lips along with the elating smile. She sniffles a little, placing her hand over one of Toby's. "I love you," she whispers breathily. "Thank you for saying those things."
"Of course," he replies. "I love you, Spencer. Don't let her ruin you. You're one of the most incredible people I have ever known."
She presses her lips to his, her hands rounding to the sides of his head, pulling him closer to her. She pours all her gratitude for him into the kiss—exchanging all her insecurities and dark, roaming thoughts into affection and love for him. She pours everything she has into him, hoping her thanks is enough to show just how much she appreciates him. Just how much she adores him.