Her shaky fingers could barely dial the phone number.
She needed him, like A needed their secrets.
He answered the phone as if nothing was wrong. As if Aria was perfectly fine, and at home, with a cup of hot chocolate, watching a stupid TV show with her mom.
As if A hadn't broken her down.
She cried, but managed to talk. Nothing else she could do. People were watching, listening, like they always were.
Why had A chosen them?
Why couldn't A go torment some other teenagers who had lost their best friend and had many secrets.
Why did it have to be Aria? She was a decent girl.
Sure she had her secrets, everyone did.
Why had hers drawn A? They were just secrets.
But A didn't want them to stay that way.
I do not own Pretty Little Liars.