memoirs of a broken mind
A choice is a most curious thing. It holds the balance of wrong and right, in its grasp. The ability to alter the future and put into motion a significant play of events. The forging of tomorrow is in its power. Sometimes it's necessary to make choices that we disagree with, for the opportunity cost is of lower value. Sometimes the decision is a difficult one, other times quite the contrary.
Growing up, we are taught proverbial such as that of which the choices are a judgment of the individuals we are. One wrong decision, and we could go up in flames. But what happens when the wrong choice is made? When the people you love are put at harm's way? When there is no alternative but revenge. And they say, that, vengeance is a dish best served cold. But remember, before you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves. One for your victims and the other for yourself...
Spencer Hastings stared out of her window, watching as the clouds parted to make way for a waterfall of rain. The heavy liquid smashing itself against the window as lightening brightened the sky, allowing her to see the hoodied figure outside. Slowly they looked up, until they were staring at Spencer from beneath the cover of their hoody. Mona. Sure enough here to make sure that everything had gone smoothly. The figure made its way to thebuilding, and placed a key into a hole just under the window, before retreating back into the dark night. Their hoody merging into the pitch black, as if they were never here.
Spencer returned to her bed, her hands grabbing the pillow from beside her and reaching into the inside of the case to pull out her black hoody. Staring at it, she recollected the events of the day in her mind. How could she do that? What could have drove her to commit such a sin? Was it a need for revenge or a spur of the moment event? She know better.
A trickle of a tear made its way down her cheek... her mind replaying cheap slogans she had been taught in her earlier life. Two wrongs do not make a right. Two wrongs do not make a right. On the contrary, life never is that simple is it?
*Earlier*
Spencer's eye flashed opened, her heart beating rapidly. Lights burned her eyes... Where was she? She reached out to protect her face from the light's glare, and nearly doubled over when she saw the crumpled figure of Aria beside her. 'Aria,' she cried. 'Aria, what's wrong? Aria where are we?' she cried frantically, tugging at her unconscious body. Tears streamed down her face. What was happening? Was this some twisted nightmare? Thousands of possibilities overcrowded her mind, but now wasn't the time to focus on that. Her best friend needed her and that was all she could think about!
She rose to her feet and looked around, locating a door she ran up to it and started banging on it. 'Help. Someone body, help!' she screamed. Her throat was clogging up with emotion.
Who would do this? What was happening? And most important of all, why? These questions spun around and around in Spencer's head, making her thoughts go awry and flinging her into a state of denial and shock. Was this for real?
She lifted Aria's head with what little strength she had left, and placed it gently into her lap. Covering herself over the unconscious body, she cried and listened to its heartbeat.
Spencer couldn't really remember what happened from that moment on... all that she could recall was a sharp buzzing, ringing in the air, and glancing up in time to witness the doors slide open. She could remember laying Aria's body carefully on to the cold floor and running through the door to look for help. She could recollect memories of finding herself in an empty corridor, the walls an impassive white, and the floor a narrow surface. She remembered screaming for help and doubling over and she remembered the door closing behind her, and with it hope. She could summon up fragments of memories wherein she heard the piercing ringing of a phone and looking to her left to find it's source. She picked up the phone and opened its screen to find a text... the format of one she knew all too well. 'How about we play a little game? I'm feeling particularly lucky today! Kisses, -A."
Spencer looked down at the screen, struggling to comprehend its meaning. Her hands shaking, she dropped it, as she once again resumed her call for help. She forced herself to her feet and turned back, making her way to her best friend's side, but it was too late. From the moment she endeavours to open it, and collapsed beside the door. She could remember opening her eyes and seeing white, cloudy, smoke rising into the corridor, slowly choking her. And from there, her memory truly was appalling.
The last memory she could successfully recollect was the blonde in the redcoat... the infamous A who had been targeting them for several years now.. She could just about picture her hoodied face as she walked past her, slowly bending down to examine her weakened body, under the cover of her hoody.
Spencer's next memory was of her in a white gown, wondering an empty hallway. She could feel the weakness of her knees, as they buckled under the pressure of her body. Her heart was racing as the events of the evening began flooding her brain. She found herself heading towards the floor and caught onto a nearby trolley, steadying herself under its strength. She looked at it carefully and saw that it had an array of surgical instruments carefully placed on top of it, and next to them lay the phone she had depicted in her lifelike dreams. She grasped it with her left hand and attempted to call 999. On the third dial, she reached an answering machine, which occurred to her as fairly abnormal. Nonetheless, what she found even weirder was the voice on the answering machine, which sounded like the cry of a baby or the programmed voices in a kid's doll... 'Nice try Spence, but you're mine now. Nice try Spence, but you're mine now,' it repeated, steadily. Spence dropped the phone in shock... What in god's name was happening?
She spun around to her left and found herself staring at the room she had earlier found herself and Aria unconscious within. All she could make out in the heavy darkness was the back of a chair, and a head full of dark brown hair... then, at that precise moment, the phone she had dropped earlier began to ring. 'ROUND ONE: give me the location of Mona's RV, or one of your friends goes bye bye. Kisses, -A'.
Suddenly, several rooms across the hallway were burst with illumination, including the one she was standing outside. Spencer circumspectly peered in and found herself gazing at the generic silhouette of a figure in a black hoody, as it made its way to the chair and spun it around. Sure enough, there was Aria. Her head limp, and resting on the shoulder of the chair. Spencer could make out several rounds of duct tape binding her mouth and hands. The figure took a stance beside Aria's body, where they produced a gun from their pockets and cocked it towards her limp head.
Before she could do anything else, Spencer heard her cry pierce the quiet afternoon/night... She couldn't tell. She doubled over and crashed into a nearby door, 5 feet from where Aria was held captive. Looking up, once more, she noticed that this room too had its lights turned on. She stared into it before realising the hoodied figure staged in the middle of a room, aiming at gun at another figure in a chair... after several moments; she was shocked to realize that the figure was, in fact... Toby Cavanaugh.